


Big Love, Little Boy

by Neaislove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, D/s, F/F, F/M, Littles, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 11:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 84,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2108640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neaislove/pseuds/Neaislove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I noticed there wasn't a lot of age play in the fandom and decided to do something about it. It's sort of an A/B/O world but more of a D/s society, everyone has a classification. Stiles is a Little and Derek is his Daddy. This will be a series of one shots and drabbles within the verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worry Not

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta read. I typed most of it up in word pad so there's probably a few errors. Hang in there with me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has been keeping a secret and Derek wants to let him know it's okay.

Anyone who knew him swore up and done he'd be a mouthy Little Brat. That was mostly true. Derek hadn't been around Stiles during much of his formative preteen years, hadn't seen him really flourish into his bratty nature. He'd been to busy with school and sports, friends his own age. Derek can remember when Stiles was a gap toothed bundle of energy that ran circles around the kids in his grade and had annoyed Cora to no end.

Being the only son of the Sheriff meant Stiles on occasion had a perfectly acceptable reason to bump into the mess of Hale children. Derek's father was the Mayor of Beacon Hills and his mother the Alpha. As a teenager Derek had been more interested in the Sheriff than his son. Law enforcement had its merits and he'd seriously considered it for a while before deciding on a history degree. At times like this he wished he paid a bit more attention to Stiles.

He's not so much a Brat anymore. He has his moments, there's no two ways about it. Stiles is a limit tester. He has a mouth on him and a stubborn defiant streak that's earned him more than one stinging bottom. But Derek has noticed that Stiles keeps falling into this young Little headspace that he can't shake. He's quieter. There's a stillness to his limbs that even Adderall can't make happen. Derek's not sure what to do about it.

As far as his family is concerned Stiles is just settling into himself. He's a Little. Classification is a spectrum just like everything else. He doesn't have to be a hard Brat just like Cora isn't a hard Master, just like Laura's husband treads the line between pet and sub. And that's fine. Stiles can be as little as he wants, as little as he feels, and Derek will be there to take care of him. Its just...it seems off. Like he's shrinking back because he's scared or anxious. Derek does what he can about that. Little's on the whole crave structure. Derek's flexible schedule and helpful family have made sure his days don't deviate much. Stiles hasn't had a panic attack in nearly a year and that was really more Deputy Haigh's fault than anything. That man's a menace.

Right now Stiles is in deep. He hasn't spoken a word all day. There've been a few slurs, things Derek can't quite make out from behind the pacifier. Whenever he tries to take it away Stiles whines and the stricken look on his face has Derek backpedaling. The Sheriff said it happens sometimes. That it happened more and more as Stiles' classmates started pairing off and settling in. Which rubs Derek the wrong way. It's not like he hasn't been a good Daddy. He is. He likes to think he is anyway. He's not always the most talkative but he's affectionate. And he's made it clear that Stiles can talk to him about anything, for as long as he wants. The problem is that Stiles will talk about anything and everything but his headspace. Which is why Derek is doing this. Because he loves Stiles. Very much. So he's going to be an adult and a good Daddy and consult another Domme. Even if he'd rather chew off his own arm like an animal than do it.

Derek glares down at his phone on the counter top. From the table Stiles sends him a curious little glance, then focuses intently back on his coloring book. It's full of National Geographic covers. A gift from Lydia. Derek huffs, quieter this time, and picks up his phone. It rings three times and Derek has to fight the raging urge to hang up. He can actually feel the superior look on Lydia's face.

"Derek, hello."

"Lydia." At her name Stiles begins fidgeting in his chair. It's the first non-passive reaction Derek's gotten out of him all day and already the wound to his pride is healing. He slides into the chair next to Stiles and idly picks up a dark colored crayon.

"Formal call or business?"

"Hm." Derek leans his elbow heavily on the table and turns himself more towards the coloring book. "I was thinking you could visit Stiles." Despite the underlying tension Derek can't help but smile. Stiles is beaming from behind his pacifier, crayons scattered and forgotten around him.

"Of course. But let's be honest Derek, why do you want me to visit?"

Derek can hear her moving through the phone, twirling a pen by the sounds of it. She's probably marking out her calendar. At the moment she's a professional, training up newbies and domming subs who've gone too long without. Derek's not sure how she does it. He couldn't imagine bringing people into his life, being intimate with them, and then letting them loose in the space of a breath. "So Stiles can see you. So we can talk. Its not like I have a wealth of friends around here." She hums at him and scratches something out. Derek lets the crayon roll onto the table and lets his palm rest heavy and warm on Stiles' leg.

"I can come by later?"

Derek shakes his head. Beside him Stiles is staring down at his hand with his brow furrowed and his teeth clenched tight around the bulb of his pacifier. "Tomorrow maybe."

"Fine, fine. Let me talk to him."

Derek taps Stiles' cheek and holds out his phone. For a moment he wonders if he'll have to hold it to his ear for him but Stiles eagerly takes it. The pacifier is still firm in his mouth but he's making pleased noises regardless. He's not tuned into what she's saying. It'd be rude really. She knows him well. Grew up with him, dommed him when he needed it. She wasn't a Mommy but she had a soft spot for Stiles a mile wide.

You could begin courting a sub when they were sixteen if parents gave consent. Derek had barely been back from college a day when he ran into Stiles at the store. He'd been lounging in cart while his friend Scott, a switch and a puppy if Derek ever saw one, pushed him around. Derek waved at them in passing and went to turn down another aisle when a grape hit him in the back of the head. The look on Scott's face when he realized what Stiles had done was nothing short of hilarious. The panic had rolled off him in waves. It didn't take more than a week afterwards for Derek to approach the Sheriff for permission to court him.

Now Stiles was eighteen and staying with Derek permanently. Couples involving Littles rarely collared. Instead most of them exchanged homemade jewelry. Usually something colorful and made with beads. And until that happened Stiles' father could still end things. If he thought Stiles was being mistreated or not acclimating properly that was it. Two years of heavily chaperoned, very tiring, courting down the drain. And Derek's happiness would go down with it.

"Daddy..." Stiles is holding the phone out. Derek takes it from him and presses a kiss to his forehead. He drags his nose down to rub with Stiles' then he's brushing his scruff all across his face. It draws squirms and happy little giggles from Stiles that make Derek's heart beat faster. He tosses the phone aside and plucks Stiles from his seat. Stiles winds his arms and legs around Derek's body and buries his face into the crook of his neck. His pacifier is rolling somewhere with the crayons but that's okay because he feels bigger than he did a minute ago. He doesn't need it right now.

They end up outside. In the far corner of the backyard, just a few steps from the tree line, there's a big trampoline. It's got safety nets and at Derek's insistence there's foam pool noodles covering the springs. Besides Stiles there's only three other humans in the pack that'd end up around them anyway but once was enough. Last summer Peter's youngest caught her arm in a spring and the pinch left her with a pulsing blood blister that lasted far too long. It hadn't deterred Stiles in the slightest.

With the trampoline in sight Stiles wriggled and strained to get out of his Daddy's grasp. He hadn't been on it in so long. Despite his squirming Derek kept a hold on him. He waited until they were up against the rim of the trampoline to let him go. Stiles took off like a shot through the net, rolling up onto his knees and then bouncing into a crouch. Then the ground was warping under him and he fell to the side in time to see Derek climbing in too. "Catapult." Stiles grinned wickedly and plopped down in the middle of the trampoline, legs crossed. From the edge Derek raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue. "I don't know."

"Catapult. Catapult. Please. Pleeeaaaaaseeeeeee. Catapult me!" Stiles rocked back and forth on his butt, eager to have Derek play with him. Usually the trampoline was reserved to tire Stiles out so he typically went in solo. The adults almost never joined in and the kids didn't really have enough coordination to send someone as big as Stiles flying. He rocked up onto his knees and bounced once. To his frustration it didn't upend Derek at all. "Please Daddy. I never get to do it anymore. Never."

That is a gross exaggeration. Stiles had Malia out here just last week. She'd even encouraged him to do tricks. The fact that the night hadn't ended in a broken bone was a small miracle. But he gave in anyway. It was nice to see Stiles eager to do something for a change, even if it could result in some bruises. Derek stood to his full height and jumped as high as he could. He watched as Stiles fell back on his butt, face alight with excitement. It only took a few jumps for the momentum to carry and before long Stiles was being bounced into the air. He'd wound himself up like a little pill bug and was giggling like mad every time he flew up.

They staid out until Stiles rolled in the air and came down hard on his nose. No blood, but it was enough send his eyes watering. It was time to lunch anyways. Derek pulled him out and shoved him toward the house. Stiles took off but circled back in an awkward lope. "We can have fries? Alpha bought microwave fries. I know she did." He's practically vibrating with energy, not having actually bounced on the trampoline at all. Microwave anything is suppose to be a once in a while treat. He'd already made Stiles chocolate chip pancakes today.

"No Stiles."

"But I know she did! She did! They're in the--" Derek gives Stiles a quick swat to the bottom, just a warning. When Stiles gets that look on his face it usually leads to a full on rant. Which almost always ends in a spanking. Or lines. Or soap if he gets wound up on the right subject. "Daddy I want--"

Derek stops and cups the back of Stiles' neck. He waits patiently for his heartbeat to wind down and lets Stiles get the chance to focus. Derek has his stern face on and he knows Stiles knows what that means. "I said no. You had chocolate with breakfast. No fries at lunch. Do you want to ask for something else nicely or do you want to spend lunch with a sore bottom?"

Stiles' mouth clicks shut but his face is still set and angry. His heartbeat has always been a little fast, a side effect of the Adderall, but it's just a touch more. Derek can't tell if Stiles wants to work himself into a tantrum for the hell of it or if it has something to do with his regression. "Can I have apple juice?"

"I think we can manage that." Derek lets his hand slide away from Stiles' neck and pulls the boy to his side. There's a sullen little hunch to his step but Derek ignores it. Stiles isn't a Brat for no reason. Once in the house he guides Stiles to the bathroom. "Wash up, then lunch. No playing around Stiles." He leaves him too it and heads to the kitchen.  
The crayons have been straightened up. The pacifier has been cleaned off and it's sitting on the counter next to a bowl of fruit. It smells like Laura's husband's been through. He never could stand a mess in the kitchen. Derek keeps an ear on Stiles, listening for running water, and pulls out stuff for lunch. A turkey and cheese sandwich, light mayo, cut into triangles for Stiles. He tosses a few carrot sticks and grapes onto the plate to round it out and makes himself a monster of a sandwich. His mother would probably scold him for not setting a better example but he has to get what he wants sometimes. By the time he's done making his own Stiles is sitting at the table, his upper body sprawled across it, the back legs of his chair up and teetering.

"Down Stiles. Now." The chair hits the floor with a thunk. Derek chooses to ignore the pout. He just wants to have a good day. He slides Stiles his plate and goes back for a sippy cup of apple juice. It's his favorite, purple with a little cartoon Hawkeye on its front. Allison gave it to him when he moved into the Hale house. Stiles takes it from him happily, content to hold it curled to his chest while he ate messily with his free hand. Stiles always went in circles with his food. A bite of sandwich, a grape, a carrot stick. Between that and the constant chatter Derek isn't sure where he finds the time to breathe.

"Allison should be Hawkeye for Halloween because there is a girl Hawkeye and she's that good. She did...she did the thing from Avengers. It was like a trick. She looked at Scott the whole time and she shot and it hit and it went right in the middle and she wasn't even looking." Breath. Carrot stick. "And then Scott can be Coulson 'cause he's got a suit and everything and Allison likes it when he combs his hair. And they can come with me trick or treating and I don't know who I want to be yet. But I'm going to be somebody. Somebody awesome." Breath. Sandwich.

"Why not Black Widow?"

Stiles' mouth goes slack for a minute and Derek's almost sure he's going to dribble some turkey onto his shirt. "Cause Allision uses arrows."

Derek smiles and reaches across the table to tap on Stiles' chin. "I meant Scott. Why can't Scott be Black Widow?" Derek knows they barely touched it in the movies but Hawkeye and Black Widow have been a Switch 'are they or aren't they' couple for as long as Derek can remember. It's perfect for Allison and Scott really. Even if Scott doesn't have the disposition to pull off a good Widow it'd be funny at the very least to see him in the costume.

Stiles ducks his head and rubs the rim of his sippy cup on his bottom lip. "But he's a boy."

Derek chuckles. "So? It's Halloween. Lot's of people wear crazy things on Halloween."

"So is okay for Halloween?" Stiles is starting to slur again. He's looking up at Derek with curious eyes. But Derek can scent the wariness.

"Sure. You can be whatever you want for Halloween."

"Halloween."

"Yeah." Derek furrows his brow and plucks the sippy cup from Stiles' hands. And just like that Stiles is back to the quite Little he was that morning. He still eats in the same circle but he's slower. Derek knows he won't have to clean up crumbs or bits of chewed carrot. He feels like an asshole and he's not quite sure why.

* * *

Morning in the Hale house is something of a mess. Talia is always the first awake without fail. The children and Stiles follow shortly after. Then the teenagers who want to hog the mirror and are all furious that the children had the nerve to use up the hot water and leave toothpaste on the counter. For the most part the parents hang back and wait for the growling to stop before even attempting to get ready for their day. More than once Derek fantasized about getting his own place.  
This morning Stiles slid quietly out of bed, snagged a sippy cup of chocolate milk from Talia, then dove back into bed with Derek with a battle cry. If he were human he'd worry for the safety of his testicles. Stiles is somehow all angles and bone. "Morning daddy."

"Mornin'." Derek growls lightly and turns, tipping Stiles with him and pinning him. For a few minutes there's just the two of them breathing quietly and enjoying Derek's sleep warm body. Then Laura's little monster Bher is screeching and streaking down the hall waking everyone else in the house. Derek just groans and sinks further into the bed, making Stiles 'oof'.

"Lydia's coming today?"

"Before lunch I think. Are you going to be good today?"

"I'll try."

Derek wants to roll his eyes. Stiles and 'try' have a bountiful and crazy history. He doesn't feel too worried though. If there's one thing Stiles wants in life it's quality time with Lydia Martin. If that means he has to reign himself in and behave for a whole day then by god Derek might get a peaceful morning. Maybe. "Let's go. We can help Alpha make breakfast." Derek stretches and rolls back enough for Stiles to squirm away. He rolls out of bed himself, hair rumpled and clothes skewed. From the corner of his eye he sees Stiles swallow his pill and drown it with milk before bolting.

Ahead of him Stiles bounds down the hall, tumbling into the sleepy members of the pack trying to force their way into the bathroom. Derek shuffles past them all, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the gut from Cora. He allowed himself a minute to wake up at the base of the stairs, his hands braced on the wall and banister. In the kitchen he could hear Stiles going a mile a minute while his mother hummed along. Four children of her own and a house full to the brim with squabbling pack had given her more patience than Derek could imagine.

They were making omelets and hash browns. Talia had graciously allowed Stiles to stir the eggs. Derek rounded the counter to accept a hand across the back of his neck from his mother, then he crowded Stiles into the counter. Despite having seen him coming Stiles still jolts and nearly elbows his milk off the island. "Careful." Derek stills the teetering cup and buries his nose in Stile's hair.

"I'm always careful. Other people aren't." Stiles huffed very matter of factly but calmed himself regardless. Talia sent Derek a grateful smile and turned to the pans on the stove. There was already a heap of vegetables sweating in one skillet and at least two pounds of meat browning in another. "Anyways Daddy says Lydia gets to come see me today. And whenever she comes to see me she's got something for me like that coloring book. I like the pictures but I don't have all the right colors so maybe she'll bring me new crayons. Or, or, maybe she has a new shirt. I've got almost all the Avengers now. I just need Hulk now cause the one I use to have doesn't fit right anymore and--" He cut off mid sentence as Derek's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Lydia doesn't have to bring you something. And if she does bring you something you say thank you." Derek could actually feel Stiles rolling his eyes. He pulls back and swats him on the butt before moving to the stove to help his mother. He brings the eggs with him. If they were left with Stiles any longer they wouldn't be salvageable.

The pack wanders in in clumps. Bher and Laura are first. She actually managed to get pants on him this morning. It's got to be record timing. Stiles flings himself into the table next to them. "Lydia's coming to see me today and--" Laura nods along and splits her attention between Stiles and Bher. It's no easy task. Neither of them do well with being ignored.

"How wounded is your pride I wonder?"

Derek tisks and bumps his mother with his hip. "She knows him. Whatever's bothering him...its not just him regressing. If he wants to be littler that's fine. But he's not just younger he's anxious. And I have no idea why."

Talia nods wisely and stirs the vegetables in front of her. "You could ask him outright."

"It'd be easier to pull out his teeth." As different as the two of them could be, sharing feelings ranked low on their priority list. The love was there and most of the time that got them through. But Stiles had a horrible habit of ignoring a problem like it'd eventually go away. Like the first time he had an accident at night and hid the evidence from his father until he worked himself into a massive panic attack. And Derek tended to bottle things up then unleash all of his pent up emotion in a rigorous workout session that nearly drove him into the ground. All without coming forward about anything.

His pack had always taken his stunted nature in stride. The only time he'd really tried to branch out was in high school and more often than not it ended up seeming awkward and brutish. After the mishap with Paige he nearly swore of courting all together. But after two years with Stiles things just felt right. It was worth the hit to his pride to try and get him the help he needed. If he couldn't get Stiles to feel comfortable in their relationship then he didn't deserve to call himself his Daddy.

Breakfast was rowdy. Malia and Stiles got into a little argument that ended with her kicking over his chair. Peter had to drag her away by the scruff of her neck. Which was the cue for Peter's boys, Jarrett and Elias to start acting up. The Bher got loose somewhere under the table. Cora was still growling about what he'd done to her ankles. It was nothing short of a blessing when Lydia came up the drive. While it did nothing to stem the chaos in the dining room it did give Derek a valid reason to bail on the total disaster that was his pack before nine am.

Derek left Stiles snuffling on the living room couch with some cartoons. He was hoping he'd get a few private minutes with her before Stiles took notice and got clingy. "Lydia."  
Lydia rolled her eyes and stepped quietly into the foyer. She kept herself out of sight of the living room and dining room, strategically using Derek as a shield. "He's being quiet?"

"He's done it before?"

Lydia pursed her lips. "You know it's polite to answer a question before asking another. But yes. He's had these little episodes before. What brought on the newest one?"

Derek crossed his arms and leaned back on the wall. His screaming family was for once working to his advantage, keeping Stiles from hearing their little chat. "Halloween maybe. Or the costumes."

"Did he ask to wear a skirt?"

"He...what?" Derek frowned and slid closer to Lydia. "Has he asked to before?"

Lydia rolled her eyes, again. The longer he spent with her the more he grasped why Cora despised her so much. They were just enough alike to grate nerves. "He never asks. But he's wanted to since he was a kid."

"Then why not just ask me?"

"Because he doesn't want to be a little girl Derek. He just wants to wear skirts sometimes."

Derek thunks his head back against the wall then pushes away to peek in on Stiles. He's absorbed in his show. He recognizes the little girl in the animal sweater but he can't place the name. Most cartoons run together for him, too much unnecessary noise and color. "So what should I do?"

"Buy him a skirt." Lydia strides past him and flicks her hair in his face. "Obviously." Farther away from the noise in the dining room Stiles was able to make out the click of her heels. He tried and failed to leap over the back of the couch to greet her. Instead he flopped over the back and rolled gracelessly onto his feet, nearly head-butting her.

"Lydia!"

She deftly avoided his flailing limbs and lead him back to the couch. The two of them got swept up into their own little world, something about a cipher on his cartoon. Was all the fuss really about a skirt? Derek couldn't recall ever telling Stiles he couldn't dress how he wanted. Stiles spent most of his high school career a mess of colors that really shouldn't have gone together. He'd even bought Stiles a pair of orange and blue plaid rain boots. He'd let Stiles wear them to an important pack summit. He couldn't recall ever giving Stiles the indication that skirts weren't okay or that it would make him more of a girl. Derek huffed and ran upstairs to change.

He comes back downstairs more slowly. Stiles is burrowed into Lydia's side, sucked deep into his show. There's a few more kids scattered around now. Malia is eyeing them all from the kitchen over her cold breakfast. Not wanting to earn her wrath he swings away from the kitchen and leans down over the back of the couch. For a second he just nuzzles the side of Stiles' face, let's his stubble catch and tickle his sensitive skin. "I have to go to the store. Behave for Ms. Lydia or there will be consequences."

Stiles gives him a snarky salute and tucks himself back against Lydia. Derek tweaks his ear in warning and draws himself away before his family can ambush him with a load of errands. As he's sliding into the Toyota he spies Cora through the kitchen window scowling at him. If he doesn't get a text in two minutes about buying cereal he'll gnaw off his own foot. He gets the text before he's out of the woods and doesn't even bother looking at it. Distantly he feels sorry for whatever sub gets stuck with her. He'll probably end up running to the store all hours of the night and day because Cora's lazy when it comes to anything other than working out.

Statistically there are roughly the same amount of female and male Littles in the world. As far as marketing as concerned Littles were girls, or very interested in sissification. Derek can't count the number of times he'd seen something he'd desperately wanted to get for Stiles if only it wasn't in a glaringly offensive shade of pink. The kind of pink that hurt his eyes. Stiles tended to stick around the six to eight age range unless he was having one of his moods so he hadn't had to scour for too much. Younger minded Littles tended towards onesies and footed pajamas. Stiles was perfectly happy to wear mis-matched socks and robot print sleep pants with one of Daddy's shirts.

So Derek didn't feel too bad about being completely overwhelmed in the Little Girls section of the store. There was taffeta and chiffon everywhere. He wasn't really sure what Stiles would be interested in. Derek wanted to have at least one skirt in hand when he talked with Stiles about how he dressed and expressed himself. With his luck he'd stick his foot in his mouth or sit down and not be able to form words. At least if he had a skirt he could show Stiles he was okay with it.

"New Daddy?"

Derek raised his brows and stared at the sales girl. He hadn't even heard her sneak up. When she shrank into herself, curling her shoulders in and turning just so to the side, Derek blinked and ran his fingers across the rack. "No. I've had Stiles for two years now. Almost three." The skirts in front of him are stiff and pleated. He's not sure he can see Stiles in them.

"Could I ask some questions? To get a better idea of what you want."

Derek nods and turns away from the skirts. It's easier to focus of her if he's not staring down neons and sequins.

"Is this for fun or punishment?"

"No, neither. I wouldn't do that to him. We have a no humiliation clause. This is...he's been quiet. Anxious. An old friend said he'd always wanted to wear skirts but..."

"Does he ever use female pronouns? Maybe use his sheets as dresses?"

"No. It's all been standard Little boy behavior."

"Age range?"

"Six to eight usually. Sometimes three or four."

The sales girl twists up her lips in thought, scrunching her nose, and scans here eyes over the racks. Derek stands quietly in front of her, feeling like a looming creep. "Okay I think I've got it." She gestures for him to follow, taking him past the more structured cuts and fashionable skirts to a wall of fluffy something. "These are simple scrunch skirts. Basically a bunch of fabric squeezed onto a small amount of elastic. The fabric is sheer but heavily layered and soft to the touch. It sounds like your Little just wants something comfortable. These should be long enough and light enough to play in too." Derek pulls one off the rack. It looks like a wad of super soft mesh. He smooth's his fingers through it and eyes the length. It would fall just about the knee and plum out just a little.

Derek brings home one in every color they had. On impulse he picked up two hoodies to go with it. One that had floppy fennec fox ears on the hood and one in a raspberry pink with a plaid heart stitched on the back. He hoped Lydia was right about all this. He'd feel like an ass returning it all. He honked the horn from the driveway and waited at the trunk of his car. Bher came barreling down the porch and lawn with a roar, Laura and her husband Mitch following at a stroll. Derek braced himself for Bher to throw himself into his legs but instead the little boy ran a lap around the car and tried to climb onto the hood.

While Mitch valiantly tries to coax Bher down Laura comes up and bumps hips with Derek. "I want to have a private talk with Stiles."

"So go up to the playroom. We'll keep everyone downstairs." Bher gives a dramatic wail and slides down the hood into his father's arms. Mitch staggers back and groans, pretending Bher has slain him or something. Laura rolls her eyes at them and nudges Derek aside to look into the trunk. "I'll even sit on Malia if you think it'll help. So what'd you get him anyway? Don't you think he has enough clothes?"

"Lydia said Stiles wants to wear skirts. I don't want him to think I'm not okay with that."

Laura coos at him but dutifully keeps her hands away from the bags. Then she's herding her family back inside. Derek counts to ten before gathering up his stuff and heading in. True to her word Laura has everyone downstairs somewhere. Stiles and Malia are play wrestling on the living room rug while Lydia referees. He manages to slip upstairs unnoticed. Probably only because Malia has the tip of Stiles' ear clamped between her teeth while she growls.

Privacy is a fast and loose word in a werewolf house. There's only so much sound proofing you can put into a house plausibly. In the basement there's the adult scene equipment. Everyone keeps their own personal toys in their rooms but downstairs there's furniture and enough concrete separating you from the living room to make things private. The attic is the playroom. It wasn't made for Stiles. The attic had been the playroom for as long as Derek could remember. In the left corner farthest from the window there's a cluster of glow in the dark stick on stars from Cora's astronaut phase. There's a bench under the window filled with children's encyclopedia's that belonged to Derek. All over there were toys and tidbits that had belonged to the whole family at some point. But now there's stuff for Stiles too.

Derek tucks the bags next to a low plastic play table covered in old paint and glitter that will never come off. He takes a minute to compose himself and think of what to say. He nods to himself and jogs downstairs. Stiles is on top of Malia now, sitting cross legged on the middle of her back. Lydia looks wholly unimpressed with whatever turn of events lead to this. "Stiles. Stiles I need to see you upstairs."

Stiles huffs and rolls off of Malia in the most inconvenient way possible, with plenty of jabbing elbows. "I should say goodbye to Lydia?"

"Go ahead. But be quick." Derek leans on the bannister while Stiles rambles to Lydia. He doesn't want to rush anything but he's also not sure how long everyone will be content to stay downstairs. The kids at least will get restless. "Stiles, quickly please."

He huffs and gives Lydia a lingering hug. Since he'd moved into the Hale house he'd seen less and less of his friends from before. The move was only partially to blame. It was natural for friends with different classifications to drift apart after graduation. As Stiles makes his way over Derek is sure to cup his hand around the back of Stiles' neck. He rubs his thumb under the lobe of his ear leads the boy upstairs.

Instead of tearing into the playroom Stiles tucks himself to Derek's side and brings his fingers up to his lips. "I'm in trouble?"

"No. No I just wanted to talk." He pushes Stiles to sit at the play table and circles around to sit in front of him. "You've been Little lately. More Little. Littler."

Stiles squirms in front of him and tucks his hands under his legs to keep from chewing on them. "I know."

"Stiles...Stiles I'm your Daddy now. And Daddy's take care of their little ones no matter how old they get, or how young they feel." Derek reaches across the table and tugs on Stiles' arm until he can pull one free. He takes his hand and catches his eye. "If you want to be littler that's fine. You just be you and Daddy will worry about the rest okay."

"Okay." Stiles doesn't sound entirely convinced but he's not visibly looking for ways out of the conversation either. He counts it as a win.

"And I got you something today." Derek squeezes his hand one last time before reaching down and pulling the first skirt out of the bag. It's pastel pink. For a second Derek wonders if he should have gone with something darker, to ease Stiles into it but it's too late now. He fans it out across the table and waits for a reaction.

Across the table Stiles' mouth falls open. With a hesitant hand Stiles reaches for it, running his fingers over the bottom edge of the skirt. His eyes flick up to meet Derek's. At the encouraging nod Stiles grabs a handful of the fabric and bunches it up, pulling it close to his face and rubbing it on his cheek. Its something he does when he feels very young. The Sheriff said he'd been a tactile toddler, not trusting anything unless he'd rubbed it across his skin first. "Mine?"

Derek upended the bag, completely covering the table in piles of soft fabric. "These are all for you."

"Not a girl."

"No. Definitely not a girl. You're a Stiles. And Stiles should wear what makes him happy."

"Is girl clothes."

"It's Stiles clothes. If they belong to you they're yours." Derek sifts through the skirts and plucks out the hoodies then lays them out for Stiles to see. "I won't ever make fun of you for wearing what you want. It doesn't make you a girl." Derek frowns and stares down at the table top. "Unless you want to be. That's okay too. What makes you happy...that's what's important to me. Daddy isn't always good at saying what he feels but that's okay too. Wait..." Derek takes a deep breath. He's not really sure where to go from here.

"'M not a girl. 'M a boy." Stiles has his serious face on. He's still clutching the skirt in his fist.

"Okay. You're still my little boy. That's good." Derek clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "I love you Stiles. No matter what you want to wear okay. You shouldn't worry about what other people think because I think it's okay and I'm your Daddy. If someone else has a problem with it I'll handle it. You just get to be you okay."

For a minute they just stare at each other over a pile of colorful skirts. Then Stiles is shooting out of his chair so quickly it clatters to the floor. Derek's fingers twitch to steady him but there's no need. Stiles yanks down his pants and kicks them away, nearly landing on his butt in the process. Then he's hopping into the skirt and twisting it into position. When he's done he grins from ear to ear and puts his hands on his hips, snapping them back and forth to make the fabric swish. His shirt is stuck in the elastic near his left hand and he's got on one long sock and one short but he looks so damn happy.

"I look good Daddy?"

"You look amazing."


	2. I'll Never Know That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek thinks about what his family is going though and how he'll never face those challenges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a great response to the first chapter. So thank you guys. Today's is short but I have a lot of them done already and they're all different lengths.

Generally speaking parents of Littles and Pets had it the worst. It was difficult to know that someday your child would just stop, stop growing mentally, stop acting human. They wouldn't be themselves anymore. It hurt to watch your child play fireman or doctor and know it would never be an option. Of course there were Littles and Pets that lived normally and only went to their headspace to scene. But for parents who's children never wanted to surface? It was difficult.

Malia was a pet. She was Peter's first child, the product of an affair with an older woman. She'd wanted to try sex with a werewolf but wasn't interested in being in a relationship with one. For a while Malia was the only thing that kept Peter in control. It hurt to watch her slip away. She'd been a temperamental child, a lot like Bher. She liked to shift, to growl, and crawl around the house like an animal. When she hit puberty things took a sharp downturn. Peter knew she was a Pet. He knew someday she'd get into her headspace and never leave it. But Peter wanted her to have an education, wanted her to meet a Dom or Domme on her own before she fell away.

It became a constant struggle. Talia tried what she could to keep Malia human but it wasn't enough. Talia's Alpha voice was enough to keep Malia from shifting and going feral but it wasn't enough to get her off her hands and knees. It didn't stop her from barking at everyone. When she turned fifteen Peter reached his breaking point. Derek wasn't home to see it but Cora Skyped him and they spent the whole night just listening to each other putter around their rooms.

His solution was a kennel. Peter searched up and down for a reputable one. A place that would teach her cues and help her out of her headspace. A place where she could experience being an actual pet without any sexual pressure. She spent three days at the kennel and came home mostly human. The people there said she was bound for a TPE relationship and that Peter should prepare himself for that. He wasn't losing her, she'd just be different, expressively limited. She was doing alright now. Still mostly human but she struggled with emotional things. Peter's mantra became 'this is progress'. No one in the pack wanted to know what would happen when the progress stopped. Or when it reversed.  
The Sheriff considered himself lucky. Stiles was a Brat, most of the time. He was intelligent. Probably smart enough to really be something. But Stiles didn't want that for himself. He was content to stay close to home and learn. It wasn't what Skylar had dreamed for his son but it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. Stiles was happy. He was healthy. He was able to surface from his headspace long enough to talk about the things that mattered when he needed to.

Derek didn't want children. He knew he wouldn't be able to spread himself between Stiles and an actual child. He knew it could be done. He knew Stiles was adult enough to understand children and what would need to happen, the division of Daddy's time. But he still didn't want them. He could barely believe he was a successful Daddy. Being a father seemed out of the question. Sometimes he thinks the only reason they work is because Stiles is smart enough to wait him out.

Maybe it makes him selfish. Or cruel. But when Derek looks at Peter, when he watches how his eyes follow his daughter, he's grateful. He'll never have to experience that. He'll never have to help a child grow and watch them drift away.


	3. It Snowballs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One thing leads to another, which leads to another, leads to another, and Derek's not sure how he got here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one today. This expands a little more on how things got to be the way they are. You guys can feel free to prompt scenarios or ask for things. I'm happy to expand and ask questions.

Somehow buying Stiles skirts turned into buying Stiles long woolen socks and stockings. "I get cold Daddy." Which turned into two more pairs of rain boots because, "I wanna play and you don't want my socks dirty Daddy. Do you? Do you?" Then Stiles needs that Hulk shirt because it's the only one he doesn't have and he wants to wear it with his purple skirt because Bruce Banner wears purple pants. And eventually wanting that shirt turns into "I need it now Daddy" because Stiles wants to dress like Bruce for the science experiment. Derek had been foolish enough to ask why he couldn't just dress like Tony Stark.

Apparently Tony Stark was an inventor and an engineer first and Bruce Banner was a science man and "Daddy you're stupid if you don't know that." Which leads Derek to where he is now. Stiles is sitting on his timeout rug, shifting and sniffling, ass on fire. It could have just been a warning. Maybe a little time out time. But Stiles is a Brat for a reason. He has a mouth and he knows how to use it. Especially when he isn't getting what he wants. So a simple infraction, calling Daddy mean names, turns into a spanking for a tantrum. Which means no Hulk shirt.

Time out is five minutes, this time. Derek likes to change up his punishments. They're always fair to the infraction but not always the same thing. He doesn't want Stiles getting complacent. Because if Stiles knows the only thing keeping him from a full blown tantrum is a fifteen minute time out he's going to start throwing a lot of tantrums. Stiles fears the unknown. So Derek keeps things fresh and it keeps Stiles from toeing the line.

Time out is always on a small circular rug. It's in front of their closet and it's big enough for Stiles to sit on, cross legged or on his knees. When their relationship first started the Sheriff warned him that Stiles had ADHD and that it kept Stiles from staying still. Some Daddies demanded their Littles kept perfectly still in time out, usually against a wall. It was standard practice. Derek had made Paige do it a few times. But it just didn't work for Stiles. He'd try and fail to be still. Then he'd get upset because he was letting Daddy down and he'd work himself up. Derek bought the rug at the Sheriff's insistence. There was one just like it at the Stilinski home in the corner of the living room.

Stiles sits up straighter, pressing his sore bottom against his heels, and hisses. His face is scrunched up in a way that tells Derek he's fighting a swear. When Stiles slumps without saying anything Derek loosens up. The five minutes is almost over now, just a few more seconds. He can hear the mechanical ticking of the wind up timer in his windowsill.  
The second the alarm sounds Stiles is up like a shot. He snatches the timer and runs with it to Derek, face still a sticky wet mess, skirt askew. Derek catches him around the middle, deftly flicking off the alarm and cradling Stiles to his chest. "Shh. It's over now. Everything's okay."

"Daddy's not mad no more?"

"No. I'm not mad. I'm never mad at you."

Stiles huffs and rubs his snotty nose over Derek's shirt. "Felt like you was mad."

Derek rolls his eyes and rubs his nose across Stiles' hair. He tries to hoist Stiles up properly but his stocking clad feet aren't getting traction and Derek gives it up. Instead he drags them to the bed. It takes a few seconds of awkward knees and elbows but Stiles ends up snuggled in close to Derek. He's always the little spoon. "Stiles."

"Hm?"

Derek cranes his neck up to see Stiles' face. His fingers are in his mouth. "Stop that." He pulls Stiles' fingers free and leans farther over him, squishing him for a second into the bed, and plucks a pacifier off the bedside table. He shoves it into Stiles' mouth before he can kick up a fuss. "If you want something you ask nicely. I know you want that shirt. You've wanted it for a while now. And I'll get it for you someday. But Daddy just bought you a bunch of new clothes."

Stiles huffs from behind his pacifier but stays quiet otherwise. Even while settling down for a nap Stiles can't stay still. He rubs his feet together and back against Derek's legs. He rubs his thumbs over the hem of his skirt or across his cheek. He nibbles on the bulb of his pacifier. Derek's use to it all by now. He waits patiently for Stiles to fall asleep, his nose buried deep in Stiles' hair. The house is pretty quiet this time of day. Almost everyone is at work or school. Peter is somewhere, he has Mondays off.

It's an amazing feeling. This tiny little moment of peace makes all the frustration and struggle worth it. There was a time when Derek thought he'd never have this. In high school he was popular enough. Just this side of awkward enough to come off as arrogantly funny rather than a bully. Paige hadn't been overly impressed. She had been, was still he supposed, a Middle. She placed around ten or twelve. And like Stiles she'd been smart and talented. Derek remembers trying to charm her over in a music room not five minutes after teasing her.

It had been a pleasant surprise when she agreed to let him court her. His parents chaperoned their dates, mostly school events. A few dinners. Just one movie. He wanted to take care of her, cut up her food, braid her hair. Sometimes she indulged him. As their relationship wore on though she pressed for more independence. She didn't want him to bring her lunch. She didn't want him to sit in on all of her music lessons. But they wanted to be together. So they did something stupid.

Derek convinced her to go on an unsupervised date. He snuck out first and helped her out of her window. They had a picnic on the edge of the preserve and things were nice. Quiet. Then Derek ruined it. It must've been around midnight. She said she was tired and Derek had smiled at her. He said something like 'Of course you are. Little kids need lots of sleep.' He thinks he asked about her bedtime too. Paige didn't appreciate it. She pulled away from him and stormed off into the preserve. She kept going on and on about how she wasn't actually ten. She was tired because it was midnight not because she was a middle. 'Where do you get off controlling how I sleep', something like that.

And Derek, he wasn't the best at talking to people. So he yelled back. He started yelling back at her and fueled the flames and before he knew it his parents were there. They didn't last much longer after that. He didn't cut her out of his life immediately, even though he thought it'd be good for her. Even though his pride hurt every time he looked at her afterwards. Instead they stopped seeing each other outside of school. And Derek pushed her to get guidance from her Dom friends and teachers. She was completely independent of him in a week. Even now, after all these years, it made Derek feel a little inadequate.

It made him second guess himself with Stiles sometimes. It made him wonder if he was too controlling, if he was the one forcing Stiles to be littler. He thought about the sippy cups and the pacifiers. Stiles wore a pull up to bed. All of those things came from a valid place but it still made him wonder if he should have tried harder. If he should break the habits. But then he'd think back on everything he'd said about Stiles being able to act as little as he wanted.

The sippy cups were Skylar's idea. It was less about mental age and more about Stiles knocking everything over. Sippy cups meant less clean up. The Stilinski kitchen was littered with sippy cups and sports bottles. There was only one glass cup in the whole house and it was a mug from the police station. Derek learned quickly that there was a reason for that. The pacifier had been more his fault he guessed. When you're in high school and you think you have a good grasp on your classification it's a right of passage to buy something that reflects it. His classmates had gone out and bought leashes, harnesses, gags. He'd gone out and bought a NUK 5 pacifier. He wasn't sure if he'd ever use it. He'd never even shown it to Paige.

Stiles chewed on things though. His mouth was always moving, talking, eating, shoving pens into his mouth. It was their fifth date. Stiles was studying for English. Derek helped when he could but Stiles was smart enough on his own. Between scribbles Stiles would chew on the end of his pen. It busted open in his mouth. The smell of ink overwhelmed Derek's nose and he looked up in time to see the shocked look on Stiles' messy face.

As a werewolf Derek wasn't entirely sure what it took to upset a human stomach. But he remembers middle school. He remembers that every time someone wrote on themselves there was always that one kid that muttered about ink poisoning. Looking back on it, Derek knows he panicked. But to be fair it was the first time Stiles had been to his house. Laura was their chaperone but she was making herself scarce. Derek saw all that ink in his mouth and practically carried Stiles into the bathroom. He cleaned as thoroughly and as quickly as he could. And once he was sure every last speck of ink was gone he dug through his medicine cabinet and found the pacifier. He spared the second to rinse it then he'd shoved it into Stiles' open mouth. "If you want to chew on something, chew on that. No pens, no fingers. It's not safe." After that pacifiers were a regular thing.

The pull ups at bed time where Skylar's doing though. Before Derek started courting him Stiles' sleep schedule was a mess. He spent more time alone than he should have and self governing meant bedtime wasn't a word anymore. Between the lack of sleep and numerous cans of soda Stiles ended up wetting the bed. He'd woken up that morning in a panic. Stiles told him about it when Derek asked him to spend the night. He said he woke up confused then scared. Said he'd never felt so little before, so young and terrified. And when his dad came home and asked him innocently why he was doing laundry, he broke down. His father had convinced him pull ups were a good solution. It wasn't a diaper. He wasn't a baby. Pull ups were like insurance. It's nice to have it just in case you need it.

Stiles was actually the one who suggested wearing them every night. Before he'd only worn them he was feeling particularly worn down. But he reasoned that Derek's sensitive werewolf nose wouldn't be okay with just flipping the mattress if there was an accident. And rubber sheets were horrible. So really the only Little thing he'd pushed onto Stiles was the pacifier.

"You thinkin' too hard Daddy."

Derek kisses Stiles just behind his ear. He's still sleepy slow and loose limbed. "Did I wake you?"

"Yeah. Can't sleep with big grumbly sourwolf behind me." Stiles grins and twists. Years of practice keep Derek from an elbow to the face. By now Stiles' skirt is hiked up over his waist and one of his socks is twisted to the side. "Whatcha thinkin' about?" He traces the frown on Derek's face, the furrow on his forehead, and the cleft in his chin. Then he gets distracted by stubble and Derek feels a little like a cat but it's nice.

"Do you love Daddy?"

The long bony fingers tracing over his face don't pause, don't even twitch or tremble. "Yes." There's no blip in his heartbeat. It's a solid yes. Like he didn't even have to think about it. Of course Stiles loves his Daddy. Why even ask? "Does Daddy love Stiles?"

"Of course. Daddy loves Stiles more than anything."

"More than Laura?"

"Yeah."

"More than Bher?"

"Yeah."

"More than Peter?"

"Definitely. Daddy loves Stiles best."

"Even when I have tantrums?" Now Stiles is covered with tension. Derek can smell the swirl of anxious sweat and pheromones drifting off of him. He covers Stiles' still moving fingers and pulls it down to his lips. He presses a kiss to his palm, then his wrist. Then he gives the soft skin there a little nip. Someday soon he's going to put a beaded bracelet there. Something colorful and crazy that Stiles will love.

"Daddy always loves you. No matter what." Maybe that's all that matters right now. He loves Stiles with everything he has. He just has to trust that he'll do what's right with that guiding him.


	4. Daycare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daycare centers are good things. They really are. Derek just has to tell himself a few times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone for the kudos and comments. It's very much appreciated and it's keeping me super motivated.

When Malia came home from the kennel she came back with a bag full of pamphlets. Most of them had been specific to her or Peter, naturally. But there were a few others, brochures for affiliates of the kennel that they send home with everyone. The bag sat forgotten on top of the fridge for a while. Then during one of his and Cora's Skyping sessions she brought out the bag and read off some of the titles. Most of them were pet related, play places and parks, stores that sold organic human safe 'puppy chow', things like that. Derek had only half listened. Until Cora pulled out a pamphlet for a Littles day care center.

Cora read the whole thing for him, even sent him scans. Sometimes he felt isolated. Caretakers were a minority in the classification spectrum. He had a few friends in New York who were like minded but even most of them enjoyed a little bit of pet play, or were asexual. Or on the other side of the spectrum polyamorous and eager to find a Little they could co-parent. Derek wasn't sure where he fell sexually. He just knew that he wanted to share himself with his Little, only his Little. It was nice to know that there were other people out there like him, even if he hadn't met them. The day care boasted availability of free contraceptives and counseling for pregnant Littles and Mommies, or couples going through surrogacy.

By now the center could be closed, or under new management. Still, Derek was interested. Stiles was a handful, bursting with energy. But he was nothing against a pack of wolves. Even when the house was empty, when it was just the two of them, Derek rarely found himself overwhelmed. Lately though Stiles has struggled with his behavior. It's becoming less about limit testing or being hyper and coming down to Stiles being destructive and rude because he's bored. His friends from school have all gone off to college. Scott and Lydia are still nearby. Allison commutes. But between school, and work, and sex they barely have tome for little old Stiles who sits at home all day with his Daddy and the pack.

Day care would be good for him. He could make friends that were like him. It would give Derek more time to concentrate on work. Having a history degree didn't open too many doors. Originally he'd meant to teach. If he'd ended up with a Middle he might have. Instead he took a job as a research consultant. He read through other peoples works and journals, checking them for accuracy and expanding on ideas they were in the dark about. Work was sporadic but he wasn't hurting for money and he liked working alone.  
Stiles was naturally inquisitive. He found Derek's job fascinating, often times going through the files in secret and trying to piece together the whole before Derek could tell him about it. While the interest was flattering, and sometimes a welcome bonding moment between them, Stiles didn't make it easy to work. He did have deadlines to make. Even if he only left Stiles at day care for a few hours it would be a great help. It'd leave him less stressed, less likely to snap at Stiles or punish him unfairly.

Lulu's Happy Home did in fact still exist. Still under the same management even. The owners were older now, pushing seventy, but they personally vetted every employee. The center was set up like a sprawling ranch house to 'ensure a more nurturing and loving environment'. The walls were painted in a soft mellow teal color. There were framed crayon drawings in every room and toys absolutely everywhere. Littles of all races and ages were playing and racing about. He could hear a few upstairs napping and the sounds of a Disney movie coming from somewhere.

The Caretaker who met him for the appointment was a young man, probably a year or two younger than Derek. He wasn't wearing a uniform but there was a well cared for scrunchi on his wrist that he was willing to bet was a token from his little. "It may not seem like it but we do have a structure. Rather than trying to wrangle everyone at once we take notes from their Caregivers. Not all nap and meal times are the same because no two Littles are the same. Play time is pretty free. We let them choose their activity but we make them clean up any messes before moving on to something new. Outside play is closely monitored and the first privilege we take if there's a tantrum.

"Even with consent we refuse to physically punish. It's not our place. The same goes for soap in the mouth. We do corner time, lines, restriction of privileges. Never food. Also not our place." The Caretaker, Jeremy, lead Derek to a small office tucked around behind the stairs. "If you would just sit in here we can talk some things over. Mostly it'll be questions about your Little. The kind of care you're looking for and what he or she is like. We're required to know all hard and soft limits, if the Little is on any medication, things like that." Jeremy takes his seat behind the tidy desk. On the wall behind him there are framed pictures of the owners, Mommy Lulu and her Little Christopher.

Derek takes his seat and stares at the desk top, slightly overwhelmed. "Stay at home Daddy?"

"Yeah. I work from home. I don't need to send him to day care, I just thought..."

"It's normal. Not all Caregivers want or believe in polyamory. There are plenty of reasons for a Little to come to us. And a lot of it is because Littles want to play with other Littles. Daddy's fun but is he willing to marathon Disney while making macaroni art? Every day?" Jeremy chuckles. "We're not superheroes Mr. Hale. Even the best Daddy needs a break. My Little comes here, sometimes even when I'm off."

Derek feels some tension drain. Other Caregivers did this. He wasn't being weird or selfish. He could do this. "Stiles, his name is Stiles. He's human and he has ADHD. He never seems to run out of energy and lately..." Derek doesn't want to paint a poor picture of him. Too many people get the wrong impression of him. He'd hate to send Stiles here if they thought he was trouble. "He's lonely, bored. He's very clever. Always eager to learn but lately I can't keep him occupied. I think it'll be good for him to be around other Littles."  
Jeremy nods and begins typing something on his computer. Derek assumes he's making a profile. "What medication is he on?"

"Adderall. I make him take it in the morning before we leave the bedroom."

"Alright. And his age range?"

Derek slumps, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Usually six to eight. He's physically eighteen." Jeremy hums and adds it to his file. "But sometimes he's younger. Three or four. He's quieter when he's younger, his speech slurs. Stiles...sometimes he wears girls clothes. Usually skirts but he has a few feminine shirts."

"What pronouns does Stiles prefer? And is Stiles physically male or female?"

"Male. Stiles is a boy. We have a hard limit on sissification. He doesn't want to be called a girl ever. He just likes the clothes." Derek watches very closely as Jeremy types. He hadn't seemed the least bit phased at the explanation, like it was perfectly normal. It was a relief really, to know that at least this one person didn't think Stiles odd.

"Is he potty trained?"

"Yes. Mostly, uh, he has accidents sometimes when he sleeps. I make him go to the bathroom before naps and that's done the trick so far. It's really only night time that he has any problem."

"I'll make a little note of it. We use kinder mats for nap time. We ask that you bring in a set of sheets and some spare clothes. If there's an accident we'll clean it up. It happens we make it a point to let them know it's okay." Jeremy looks directly at Derek while he speaks, his voice soft and level. "Does he use a bottle or have any dietary needs? We send home a calendar with the meals listed. Snacks vary because the Caregivers donate them but meals are rigid for health reasons."

"No allergies, food or otherwise. He uses a sippy cup. Six might seem too old but he's clumsy. If his cups didn't have lids he'd dehydrate." Derek licks his lips and straightens up but Jeremy is busy chuckling.

"What are the rest of his limits? And does he have an phobias we should be aware of?"

"Sexual limits too?"

"At your discretion. We don't need them but some Caregivers like to be thorough."

"I'll keep those private then. No humiliation, no female pronouns. No bondage. I know how that sounds but..." Derek sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "He got tangled in a jump rope once and panicked so its not just a sexual thing. No breath play, which means no close fitting masks. He doesn't like people putting their hands over his mouth. He has panic attacks. Did I mention that? He has an anxiety issue. Mostly it's crowds, big groups of strangers."

"If you'd like we can assign a Caregiver to shadow him his first day so he can acclimate. Sometimes we suggest just a half day at first, or you could join him for a little while."

"If I come I'm not sure that he'd go play. A half day sounds nice though. He's not on meds for the anxiety. If he has an attack just get him somewhere quiet and help him regulate his breathing."

"Nap time and meal time?"

"He naps around eleven. Lunch anywhere between twelve and two. His medication messes with his appetite so I try to be lenient there."

"Alright. Are you supernatural in any way?"

Derek gives him a blank look. There isn't a person in Beacon Hills who haven't heard of the Hale pack. His father was the Mayor. Their pack marched in the Christmas parade in various levels of shift. Jeremy must sense his mood but laughs it off. "It's better to ask than assume."

"Werewolf. Beta...do you need to know that? Does it make a difference?"

"We just like to have it on file. You never know. Is anyone in the pack allowed to pick him up or only you?"

"The adults and my younger sister Cora. There's a few others. Friends of his with different classifications. I'll bring a list of names and pictures his first day."

"That'd be wonderful. Let's see...", Jeremy hummed and tapped his fingers over the desk, his eyes scanning across the computer screen. "I think we have everything Mr. Hale. Unless there was something you wanted to add?"

"No. I think that's it." He goes to stand but hesitates. For a second he stares down at his phone then shifts in his seat. "Is there a news letter? Or a chatroom group. A forum or something?"

Jeremy nods and slides his chair to the side and opens a drawer. After a few seconds of rifling through he pulls out a bright yellow flyer. "We have a blog. You can make a profile and chat with the other Caretakers. We like to trade activity ideas and arrange playdates for outside of the center." Derek takes it, almost cautiously. He folds and pockets it without letting his eyes linger too long. The last thing he needs is this guy thinking he's a desperate creep.

"Thank you. I'll bring Stiles by tomorrow. When's a good time?"

"How about after his nap. We have a few others that share the same meal time. Food's a good way to get him settled I think." Jeremy pulls a blue paper from the organizer on the desk. It's a food calendar. "Tomorrow is English muffin pizzas. We let them pick their vegetable and fruit."

It's wonderful. Derek can honestly see Stiles enjoying himself here. And it isn't every day, or all day. Some time apart will be good for them. He tucks away the calendar and shakes Jeremy's hand. "He'll love it."


	5. Accidents Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles does something he's not suppose to but its a little hard for Derek to be mad at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like these are getting shorter. Ughhh, I have a longer one coming up.

Sometimes Derek has to just stop, look to the sky, and say "Love of my life." Because if he didn't he'd say something stupid. Or punish Stiles unfairly, it varied by event. And he did think of them as events because Stiles couldn't be like everyone else and have regular fun. He had to try crazy things like spells or homemade glitter bombs with actual exploding power. This time he was lost. Or hiding rather, outside the designated hide and seek area.

The preserve was truly a monstrous area. Strictly speaking the Hale pack only owned a portion legally but so far as the town was concerned werewolves owned the woods. People tended to stick to the trails, less out of fear and more out of respect. Which meant there was a lot of overgrowth. On days when the whole pack was together and free they liked to stray from their land and run free in the unincorporated woods. The adults kept the kids within sniffing distance and let them go wild. Bher once ended up at the top of a tree. Malia bravely offered her services to retrieve him.

So for the better part of the day the whole pack had been running up and down the woods leaving their scent absolutely everywhere. When the kids decided to play hide and seek Talia told them to keep it close, in their own land for safety. The wolves were too young to disobey an order from their Alpha and the human kids were wary of venturing too far off on their own. Stiles however was a limit tester. Sometimes he thought he could get away with more because he was a Little and not an actual child. It rarely worked out that way and Derek was frankly tired of driving the message home.

Derek, Laura, and Cora were combing the woods for him now. He didn't want to be worried but it was quiet out. Stiles had a habit of talking to himself, especially when he was lost. He knew Derek would be able to hear him even in the biggest crowd. The woods were quiet though. Which meant Stiles didn't want to be found or he was hurt. The mere thought of Stiles being injured and alone sent his heart racing. Already his face was shifted. He searched carefully, not wanting to miss a single broken twig or overturned rock.

Cora found him. She let out a howl and Derek and Laura raced to her. There was no second howl for help so Stiles was safe. Derek hoped he was. Hoped Cora wasn't just frozen in shock. Derek pushed himself harder, vaulting over uneven land and skidding to a stop near his sisters. When Laura met his eyes she smiled sadly and nodded her head towards the house. Cora's eyes lingered over the leaf strewn ditch but she followed. Derek let them pass, breath still coming heavily. He wanted to calm himself before he faced Stiles.

Once Derek reigned himself in he let out a soft whine. He knew why Stiles hid. Derek walked slowly to the egde of the ditch and crouched down. Stiles was sitting in the dirt, his knees drawn up tight to his chest. On the ground next to him his jeans were balled up and damp. The skirt he'd tugged on over it was caught against his belly, baring his dirty legs and cold feet. "It's okay Stiles. It's okay."

Derek watched helplessly as Stiles let out a wail. His face was splotchy and pink, his eyes red rimmed. Derek took a deep breath and slid into the ditch in front of him. The smell of urine was coming heavily from the jeans. The skirt was mostly spared but Derek could make out where it was still clinging to his skin. Stiles had never had an accident in the day time.

Breathing through his mouth the wolf came closer, crouching low and keeping his pace slow. He frowned as Stiles turned away from his outstretched hands. "It's alright Stiles. It's okay. Accidents happen." Instead of looking comforted Stiles' face twisted into an angry frown. The boy tried to spring to his feet but Derek caught him around his middle. For a second Stiles fought, flailing and grunting, trying to free himself and run. Derek let him tire himself out, not reacting to a single blow or whine.

With a roar Stiles braced himself on the balls of his feet and tried to leap from Derek's arms. And got nowhere. He slumped and panted, too upset to try again. "I'm not a baby. 'M not!"

Derek cooed and pulled Stiles close, forcing his head under his chin. He kept one hand around Stiles' middle and brought the other to cradle his skull. "You're not a baby. Accidents happen sometimes."

"Stupid accident."

Derek bopped his chin against the top of his head. "You're not stupid."

Stiles scowled and kicked at Derek's leg. "'M not stupid. 'M smart. Stupid bladder." Derek playfully kicked him back.

"Stiles when you have an accident, if you get hurt or scared, you have to tell Daddy. Or Alpha, an adult in the pack. You can't just go hide."

"Is embarrassing."

"You scared Daddy. We said no going past the preserve and you wandered away. You could have gotten hurt. Someone could have taken you. And now you're wet and cold. If you'd just come to me I could have cleaned you off and you'd be playing right now."

Stiles whined and tucked his face up into Derek's neck. The stubble catching on his face was comforting. When the two of them started courting Derek would spend hours rubbing his face over Stiles' face, neck, and shoulders. It was a wolf thing but Stiles had always been tactile. "I'm in trouble?"

"Hm. For wandering away and hiding yes. Not for the accident." Derek stood, cradling Stiles to his chest by his waist and under his knees. "Lets get you cleaned up."

"My pants!" Derek rolled his eyes and kept walking. The pants were Stiles' favorite red corduroys.

"I'll come back and get them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of avoiding Stiles' real name because I can't decide what I want to use. Because I like the fanon idea that he's Polish because Stilinski, but I've also come to love him being Russian so I don't know what to do with that.


	6. Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles hates writing lines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this one is super duper short but it's more from Stiles' perspective. Tomorrow's is pretty long. Also I'd like to thank everyone who commented and thanks for letting me know his name being Polish is canon.

Lines were stupid. Stiles hated lines more than spanking, more than rug time. Whenever Stiles got lines Daddy made him write at least a hundred. Two hundred once. And Daddy always demanded his hand writing be neat. If Stiles let his mind wander then his lines would get sloppy and Daddy would make him start all over.

Unlike rug time he never knew how long lines were going to take. And unlike spanking Stiles didn't get the cathartic feel of crying it out and getting hugs from Daddy after. The only thing worse than lines was soap and Stiles was very, very aware of what would lead to soap. He avoided those activities unless absolutely necessary. Like that time Stiles called Deputy Haigh a dick.

Lines though, that was his problem at the moment. Sometimes Stiles' imagination got away with him. Usually Daddy kept notebooks and pens with him when they went out. It helped with his work. Stiles would take a few pages and scribble out whatever he wanted. Today though Daddy hadn't brought his bag. So no notebooks. But Stiles kept a pen in his pocket in case Daddy's ran out of ink.

And Stiles knew how Daddy felt about ink poisoning. He tried to be smart. Writing on his skin was a no-no but writing on his clothes should have been okay. Daddy always said his clothes belonged to him. So while Daddy had his meeting at the coffee shop counter Stiles had sat in the booth behind him and wrote down everything he wanted on his khaki's. Daddy had not been impressed.

So as punishment Stiles had to write one hundred lines 'I will not ruin my clothes on purpose.' Daddy told him that his clothes did belong to him but that it was rude to destroy them. Daddy spent money on him and gave him want he wanted as a reward. If he liked his clothes and wanted to get new clothes in the future he had to learn to treat them well. Stiles wasn't so sure what the problem was. People got ink on their clothes all the time. It washed out.

"I don't hear a pen moving."

Stiles jolted and scooted his chair closer to the table. His Daddy was sitting in the living room, listening in while Stiles did his lines. Having a werewolf for a Daddy made it nearly impossible for him to get away with anything. Especially when he tried to lie. "I'm doing them Daddy." Stiles hunched over his notebook and continued his lines. Lines sucked though. Stiles had no idea what his Daddy even did with the lines when he was done with him. He wondered if there was a box somewhere in the office full of stupid lines.

"Daddy?"

"Lines Stiles."

Stiles groaned and kicked the leg of a chair under the table. "I'm doing them Daddy. But I got a question." Stiles bounced his leg, jittering it up and down. He shoves his pencil in his mouth and leans back, trying to catch sight of his Daddy.

"Out of your mouth. It's unhygienic." Derek plucks the pencil from his mouth and puts it next to the notebook. "What Stiles?"

"Was the story good?"

Derek groaned. "Do your lines Stiles. We can talk about that after."

"What do you even do with my lines?"

"I'm making a book." Derek taps the notebook and scowls down at Stiles. "Now finish your lines." Stiles groaned so loud Derek was sure people in town could hear it.


	7. Spankings Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Stiles makes a mountain out of a molehill. And sometimes Stiles needs spankings even if Derek doesn't think he deserves it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally one with a decent length. We've also got an actual spanking here folks.

By the time you make it to eighteen, statistically, you've been tested on classification twenty one times. More if your results were borderline or changed drastically. Less if you were homeschooled or skipped on testing days. The average person was tested for magical or supernatural ability about three times. At most. You could always go to a facility and ask to be tested for something specific but the school system only flagged a person three times. There wasn't usually a need because most supernaturals knew what they were.

The tests caught Druids mostly, or people who had a supernatural relative far back in their bloodline. Stiles never got tested. His mother was a Spark. Someone with a small amount of magical affinity, usually in protective magic, who couldn't quite muscle it as a witch. Stiles knew he had some ability. Claudia had seen it before her sickness. Stiles had just never acted on it. Every now and again he'd dream walk. Once he got into mountain ash saw dust and refined it to the fine black powder people used to line traps.  
Derek knew it was important for Stiles to have some kind of handle on his gift, especially given his classification. If he got too deep into his headspace and got attacked it was anyone's guess what would happen. Honestly he'd forgotten to mention that Stiles was a spark when he'd enrolled him at the day care center. His abilities were so passive they were easy to dismiss. He'd have to go back and amend the file and hope it didn't get Stiles kicked out. He loved that place. And Derek was willing to admit he'd grown attached to the other Caretakers he'd met through the blog.

Today Stiles was suppose to be studying with Peter. His uncle was something of an expert in lore and had a small collection of works dedicated to sparks. One was a personal journal from the 1800's. Peter steadfastly refused to let Stiles touch it. Derek didn't really blame him for that. They tried to make it fun. Peter made worksheets and awarded him stickers for correct answers or attempts. Stiles loved it at first. Foil stickers had been his favorite and he'd stuck a whole ream of Pokémon ones to the bookcase in the attic playroom.

Then Peter tried to award him some simple paper smiley face stickers and the system fell through. Derek found that it was easiest to keep him on track if you gave him multiple things to focus on and gave him the freedom to jump between. It worked when Stiles wanted to learn more about ancient cultures or the American government. But Peter stubbornly believed that Stiles was just being difficult and that he'd break him some day. It amused Derek enough that he let it go.

Even if it meant Stiles wasn't getting all he should from the lessons. This would probably come back on him some day. Until then though Derek would enjoy the rising agitation in Peter's voice as he calmly explained why it was important to listen to the diary of an old woman. Stiles was on a streak. Not a single thing had come out of his mouth since the lesson began that wasn't a petulant question. Some of them completely valid.

"Derek! Come fetch this boy before I lose my temper."

"You should. It'd make you nicer!" Derek turned the corner in time to see Stiles sticking out his tongue. Judging by the clever insult he was feeling a little older than normal. Probably pushing eight. Peter looked overly done with the whole ordeal and Derek got the feeling he'd pay for it dearly tomorrow. But that was a problem for another day.

"Come on. If you're not trying to learn you shouldn't be in the study." He plucks at the back of Stiles' hoodie and drags him from the room. "We can go to the park if you'd like."

"Yes! I'd like that very much. Come on Daddy. Let's go." Stiles tears off, his socked feet skidding on the hardwood. He slips and skids into the couch but is up again in a flash. By the time Derek is slipping on his shoes Stiles is jumping up and down in front of the door. "Let's go Daddy!"

Derek grabs the back of his head and slides his palm down. His nails scratch from Stiles' crown to the base of his skull, drawing out a shiver. "We're going. You'd better behave."

"I will. Come ON."

"Consequences Stiles."

* * *

The park is full of kids. School let out maybe an hour ago. Derek watches from a bench as Stiles leads a horde of actual children in mock battle. It's a toss up between Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. There's at least one girl pretending to be Elsa. The other parents are clustered together on the other side of the swings. They knew who he was but it seemed Stiles had slipped their gossip circle. He kept an ear out to make sure they didn't get derogatory.

They seemed mostly interesting in knowing where he'd picked up his hoodie. And for some reason they found it hilarious that a werewolf would dress his Little as a fox. He didn't see what the big deal was. Its not like people commented on Bher's name. But that might be because Bher was an unholy terror who took cues from his mother. Derek wouldn't put it past his sister to drop him wild and hyper into a crowd of people for revenge. He was going to be a nightmare in kindergarten.

Laughter mixed in with tiny screams of playful terror. The whole playground smelt like adrenaline and apple juice. Derek made it through three more chapters in his book despite all this. Living in a wolf pack did wonderful things for your concentration. It also taught one the importance of splitting duties. There were five other mothers and two fathers scattered around. It was the middle of the day in a park within spitting distance of his packs outer territory. Derek let himself ease up and really fall into what he was reading.

At the end of his chapter he tucked his finger behind the next page and listened. The other parents were occupied. The Elsa girl had fallen off the tire swing and was bleeding at the knee. She was drawing most of the attention. Derek toned her out and focused for Stiles' heartbeat. He pinpointed it easily, fast and familiar. He was about to turn back to his book when he noticed what was wrong.

Stiles was quiet. The gaggle of children that had been playing with him for the past hour were scattered around the park in new groups. Playing smaller scale games. Stiles was standing alone at the edge of the park, fingers hooked into the chain link fence that separated it from the woods. Derek abandoned his book immediately, tossing it to the bench in his haste to get to Stiles. His jaw was clenched to fight the urge to shift. If it was nothing he didn't want to cause a panic. His hearing funneled to Stiles, listening for any small thing that would give him a clue.

He nearly leapt the final few feet when Stiles turned to face him. "NO!" Stiles thrusts his arms out and rams into Derek. It doesn't do much physically but the shock stills him. Behind him the parents are reacting to Stiles yell, gathering up their children and rushing to their cars.

"Stiles!"

"Daddy no. We have to go home." He digs his feet into the ground and shoves at Derek's stomach. "Home now!" He growls and shoves harder.

Derek grabs Stiles' wrists and spins him around, holding his crossed wrists to his stomach. "Stiles stop it. Tell Daddy what's wrong."

"Wolfsbane Daddy. It's growing there." Stiles jerks his head to the fence. "It's not safe for you Daddy."

Derek takes his word for it. When he and Stiles began courting he researched wolfsbane tirelessly. He'd made himself little flashcards with pictures of every known strain and it's known side effects. After a week he knew them all. Derek lets his wrists go and turns Stiles around. His eyes are red rimmed and his heart is beating too quickly. Derek cradles Stiles' head in his hands and brings his nose to his, rubbing them together. "It's alright. I'm fine. You're fine. Sometimes it just grows wild." Derek leans in and gives Stiles a chaste kiss. He drags himself away and presses his cheek to Stiles'. "I'll have someone come out and take care of it."

A breeze drives past them and Stiles jolts in his grasp. He clutches onto the sleeve of his Daddy's henley and tugs. "We need to go home."  
"Okay, okay we can go." Derek pulls back and pulls Stiles to his side. Together they walk to the car in silence. Derek rubs soothing circles onto Stiles' hip with his thumb, keeping an ear on Stiles' heartbeat. The closer they get to the car the calmer he gets. Stiles has never seen a wolfsbane poisoning. Not in person anyways. Derek knows they've been blessed with a relatively peaceful life in Beacon Hills. Other packs are not so lucky.

Poisoning from wolfsbane pollen in the air is rare. Its the petals and seeds that are truly dangerous. At the most a large cloud of pollen can cause severe allergy symptoms. And as it stood Beacon Hills had been home to werewolves since its conception. When the town got its start there had been a lot of fighting. A lot of omegas and overly entitled aphas that clashed with hunters. There were people who carried wolfsbane and mountain ash around like women did pepper spray today. Every now and again a wild clump would grow up from a dormant seed.

The Sheriff had a handbook down at the station for clean up. Most citizens in town couldn't recognize it off the cuff but those who could generally called the non-emergency number for the station or the mayors office. The wolfsbane would be harvested by someone and then be sent off to make bullets or salves. It would be cleaned up within the hour. Stiles didn't need to panic, it was just his anxious nature getting the best of him.

Derek helped Stiles into the car, buckling him into the backseat. He let his hand drag and linger of Stiles' middle then kissed him on the cheek. The ride home was quiet. Derek left the radio on but low. Normally Stiles would dance and hum along. Honestly Derek wasn't sure why Stiles was so subdued. There hadn't been any danger. Stiles would have mentioned it the wolfsbane had been grown in neat rows. Or if had been mixed in with Nightshade. Stiles knew there was a protocol in place for wild wolfsbane. Derek hadn't been at risk for stepping on it or ingesting it. There wasn't any reason for Stiles to be so upset.

During the drive Derek sends a text to his mother to let her know. She'll let Stiles' father know. When they got to the house there were a couple of people running around outside. All of Peter's children were out. His wife too. The five of them were throwing a ball to each other in a circle. Malia naturally seemed the least amused. "Want to play with them?"

"No Daddy." Stiles fumbles with his seatbelt but doesn't leave the car.

Derek sighs and leaves the car, waving to Janice and the kids. Their split attention lets Malia nail her youngest brother in the face. Then they're all squabbling and growling so Derek's able to get Stiles up to the house without a fuss. He takes Stiles up to their room, guiding him with a hand to the small of his back. Once they're there Stiles pulls up his hood and curls up on the bed.

"Stiles," he sits down and cups Stiles' face under the hood, "Daddy's okay. You're okay." He smiles when Stiles tips his head to the side, tucking his nose into Derek's wrist. "What's the matter cub?"

"I was bad."

Derek's face widens in surprise. "Bad?" He spares a second to think back at what happened. Stiles had shoved him, yelled at him. Under the circumstances Derek hadn't thought anything of it. He'd been panicked and upset. Derek didn't see anything Stiles had done to be out of line. "How were you bad?"

"Not suppose to hit Daddy. Or tell him what to do."

Oh. So Stiles did understand that there hadn't been any real threat. Now he felt like he'd been naughty. Stiles typically didn't volunteer himself for punishment but he also rarely got the opportunity to hide wrong doing. Derek ran his hand down Stiles' back. "I'm going to get you some water, then we're going to talk okay." Derek waits a beat. "Stiles?"

"Okay Daddy."

Even though it tugs at his heart to leave him Derek goes downstairs slowly. They could both benefit from a few moments of peace. Derek doesn't like frivolous punishments. He's a pretty relaxed Daddy all things said. The general rowdiness of his pack lowered his expectations of good behavior. Mostly he wants Stiles to not put himself in harms way or be rude. But sometimes Stiles feels extremely guilty over something Derek sees as nothing. It's in his nature, not just as a sub, but a person with social anxiety. Stiles has a tendency to make a mountain of a molehill. His guilt simmers and grows until Derek finds himself having to punish Stiles just to make him happy again.

Derek puts the ice water in a sippy cup, nothing special, just the first one he'd grabbed from the cabinet. He tries not to bring Stiles' comfort items into punishment. He takes one last minute at the base of the stairs to compose himself. Even if he doesn't feel like Stiles has done wrong he has to understand that sometimes Stiles needs things. He listens in for Stiles as he climbs the stairs. He's not crying but his breathing is swift. He's obviously trying to keep calm. Derek can imagine the little quiver in his lip.

Just as expected Stiles is working himself up more rather than calming himself down. His breath is coming out in little huffs. He's tucking himself into his hoodie and trying to look small. "Stiles." Derek sits on the bed and tucks Stiles to his side. He lets his head rest on his crown and passes over the water. He waits for Stiles to drink half of it before starting their talk. "You feel like you were bad today?"

"Yeah." It drags out like a long sad whine. Derek clucks his tongue and holds him a little tighter.

"Is it just about the park? Is there something else you want to tell Daddy?"

Stiles nods, his forehead running up and down the inside of his hood. When he speaks again he leaves the tip of his sippy cup pressed to his lip, garbling his speech. "Peter too. Was rude today. S'bad."

Derek takes a deep breath and pulls away. He takes the sippy cup and places it on the bedside table then tugs on Stiles' arm. "Today you made some bad choices. Daddy is proud of you for recognizing the wolfsbane. And it made Daddy feel good to know that you love me so much you'd try so hard to keep me safe. But you're not suppose to hit Daddy. Or yell." Derek has to catch Stiles' chin to look him in the eye. His little boy looks like he's two seconds from crying but Derek pushes on. It's important for both of them. "And your lessons...they're important Stiles. It's about safety. Not just for you and the pack, but for everyone. It's important that you try. If Uncle Peter says something is important then you need to listen. If you feel like he's being unfair you come to Daddy. Little boys don't solve problems with grownups. They go get help. Okay?"

"Okay."

This is the part he hates the most. Discipline is a normal thing in any relationship. It's the spanking though. Its in these moments that Derek is hyper aware of what he is. As a werewolf it would be so easy to slip up, to damage Stiles. Not just his body but his trust. If he loses control for even a second he risks ruining everything. By now he feels like he's got a decent handle on it. He knows how much force to apply for a warning, how much will bruise. He knows the pros and cons of a steady pace and force and the way alternating can be a punishment on its own. But there's still always a second, when Stiles is readying himself across his lap, that he worries.

Stiles has his pants pushed down to his knees. He always leaves his underwear up unless Daddy tells him otherwise. It gets pulled down after a warm up if the spanking is going to be a long one. There's a knot of guilt and anxiety welling up in Stiles' belly that almost wishes his underwear will come down, even though he knows it won't go that far. He lays across his Daddy's lap and squirms until he's comfortable. Sometimes they do this in a chair and he gets to brace his hands on the floor. He kicks more in that position and he knows Daddy doesn't like that, doesn't like anything that moves him around while the spanking is happening.

Derek always starts the spankings the same, no matter how mad he is. Stiles is familiar with it and nearly melts at the feel of his Daddy's hand coming to a gentle rest over the swell of his butt. He lets himself enjoy the soft sweeps of his thumb that brush over the very tippy top of his thigh. "When I'm done everything is forgiven." Stiles tenses even though he doesn't want to. The second his Daddy's hand is off of him his whole body clenches. The first swat hits him with a crack. It has Stiles' fingers scrambling to clutch at their bedspread. Derek takes his time, methodically swatting the left cheek then the right. The underwear softens the blows just a touch but Derek knows Stiles is feeling every second of it regardless.

Derek rains down swats until he feels his own hand begin to tingle and burn. He can see from the leg of Stiles' boxer briefs a little blush of pink. Stiles' sit spot should be bright red by now. Derek can usually gage where he is by Stiles' cries. The soft wet gasps coming out of his mouth let him know he's done even before he pulls up the elastic to check. He likes to look anyways, just to check that he hasn't gone to far. Very carefully Derek lifts up the elastic band of the boxer briefs and pulls them down. He holds them at the top of Stiles' thighs and inspects his work.

Stiles' whole bottom is a livid pink. Despite disliking the form of punishment Derek takes a moment to be proud of his work. The coloring is even, all of his strokes landed exactly where he wanted them too despite Stiles' wriggling legs. He likes to know that he can be trusted to do this, that he's a good enough Dom, a good enough Daddy, that he has spanking down to a science. When he's done he waits for Stiles' heartbeat to slow down a little then tips him forward just so. Stiles' knows the drill and lifts his hips to help. The underwear get pushed down with his pants and Stiles takes a second to just breathe.

Spanking has always been pure punishment. No amount of wiggling around on Daddy's lap has ever gotten it up for Stiles. The only time pain ever gets into their 'fun time' is when Stiles bites or scratches. Stiles isn't sure how other people do it, how they can separate spankings that are for punishment from spankings that are for fun. Scott tried to explain it to him once but the idea didn't catch. Regardless the spanking has done its job. Already Stiles feels lighter, more relieved. It's hard to feel guilty when your ass feels like it's on fire. Stiles turns as much as he can with his legs tangled in his jeans and curls around his Daddy's middle.

"Feel better?"

"Butt hurts now Daddy."

"If it didn't hurt there wouldn't be a point." Derek pushes his hand under the hood of Stiles' jacket and scratches his fingernails across his scalp. The motion pushes the hood back revealing Stiles' red, tear stained face. "Do you feel better? No bees in your tummy?"

"No bees." Stiles tips his head up, chasing the feeling of Derek's fingers in his hair. "I don't want a nap." Following this Stiles starts twisting and kicking his legs to free himself from his pants. He squawks in offense at Derek's snort but lets him help pull the jeans away. Stiles is already planning how he can salvage the rest of his afternoon. He knows there's at least three science experiments he can try with the stuff in the kitchen. But somewhere between imagining the wonderful ways the experiments could go wrong and listening to his Daddy grumble at him, he drifted off to sleep.

Derek's not surprised in the least and is immensely grateful for the thirty minutes of peace he usually gets after a spanking. Sometimes Stiles can be downright predictable.


	8. Playdough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an actual playdough recipe that makes a silky no cook dough.

There was something nostalgic about the smell of Playdough. The second you opened the lid your mind went somewhere simpler, happier. Derek liked Playdough as a kid. He remembers pitching an unholy fit when his siters mixed up the colors and crammed them back into the wrong tubs. He had taken a lot of pride in his collection and the creations he'd made from it. As an adult however, Playdough had lost some of its charm. It was still a great way to keep kids occupied. Stiles included. He bought a pack of playdough at least once a month because somehow a lid always got left off and it air dried or the colors mixed. The Hale house was full to the brim with Playdough. And Derek still liked to play with it on occassion. He was a little ashamed to admit how competitive he and Stiles got when they started making things.

But the smell. It lingered. No two ways about it. It hovered in the kitchen over the trashcan where playdough sticky newspaper sat. It clung to the carpet where the kids dropped their little creations. It sank into the pores on Stiles long fingers after hours of working through it. No matter how much Derek cleaned and scrubbed and febreezed he couldn't get the smell of Playdough out of his nose. It bothered him. It was a small, niggling, annoyance that hovered on the perifrial of his mind. Did he miss a spot? Did Stiles not wash his hands? Were the kids hiding a wad of it in the walls to mess with him?

It didn't even matter at this point that the smell wasn't bad. It was just because it was there. Always. Lurking like a bad omen around every corner. In a fit of desperation Derek turned to the daycare's blog for answers. Some of them tried to offer help on how to get the smell out but Derek wasn't interested. If his mother couldn't rid the house of Playdough stink, no one could. A few of the caretakers however had offered him home made Playdough recipies. He clicked through them with interest, weighing the pros and cons of each. One recipie called for essential oil to scent the dough to your liking.

It only took Derek a second to imagine his room reeking of pumpkin pie to turn down that idea. Finally his prayers were answered by a woman named Kali. Derek hadn't met her yet. He smelt her sometimes around the daycare and on Stiles. He knew she was an Alpha of a neighboring pack and that her Little Julia was a Druid. Julia and Stiles spent a lot of time together at the daycare talking about magic and coming up with wild fantasy scenarios.

Kali suggested mixing two parts cornstartch with one part conditioner. She said that while it wasn't the sturdiest mixture it could hold a form and most importantly Derek could control the smell. Most of the Hale pack used Herbal Essences naked brand. It held almost no smell and it dissipated quickly. If Derek were to use it with the cornstartch then his problems were solved.

It was easy enough to convince the kids, and Stiles, to help him. Bher had climbed up onto the kitchen counter when Derek mentioned a quest. "Everyone go around the house, use your nose. Find every piece of Playdough you can and put it in the playroom. There's a bucket. When you've gotten it all we'll start." The kids scattered, even Malia was helping. Derek guessed that it had more to do with the draw of tracking a scent than anything. It didn't take but twenty minutes for everyone to come back. All of their hands stank of Playdough and Peter's youngest daughter, Maisy, was covered in mud from the knee down. He didn't even want to know.

"Everyone grab a bowl. Careful, careful, there's something inside." Derek helps them each grab a small bowl. He'd gone to a dollar store and picked up a dozen small tupperware tubs specifically for this. Each bowl held two cups of cornstartch already. "Everyone has their bowls? Okay, now we're all going to add one cup of conditioner." This too was already portioned. Everyone eagerly grabbed a small cup and dumped it into their bowls without waiting for Derek's instruction. Bher tried to mix it together with his bare hands. Derek managed to snatch him away at the last second.

"Daddy we're making playdough?" Stiles was loosely holding his bowl, eying Derek warily.

"Yes Stiles, we're making playdough." Derek has to take a step back from the counter to hold Bher up. From his lofty position Bher whines and swipes trying to catch a handful of Derek's hair. "We're all going to make playdough and everyone gets to decorate it how they want. We can add food coloring and glitter."

"I can play with it in our room?"

Derek plops Bher back onto the counter but holds him still with his arm. "No. Rules are rules. Messy art supplies are for the kitchen or the playroom only."

"But--"

"Playroom or kitchen only Stiles." Derek dutifully ignores Stiles' muttering about how playdough it actually a toy and not an art supply. Stiles made this argument every time he opened a tub of playdough. He'd obviously assumed that Derek kept his foot down on the matter because of the smell. And while that was a factor Derek honestly just didn't want to clean out his room any more than he had to. The less he invited into his room the less maintenance he had to do. But that was a secret for Daddy. Stiles would just have to deal with it.

Once everyone had mixed their playdough thouroughly there was a mad dash to the playroom to get supplies. Derek had the food coloring on the counter but there was glitter and liquid water colors upstairs. For once Bher had been content to not join the fray, already elbow deep in the white playdough, completely fascinated. Stiles came back first. He had a tube of tiny glass beads. "I can use the counter Daddy?"

"Go ahead." Derek watched with interest as Stiles divided up his dough into three parts. He left the biggest in the bowl and dyed it a dark purple, almost black. Once he was satisfied he plopped it onto the counter and grabbed another handful of the white, this time dying it a raspberry pink. Once that was done he repeated the process on his smallest wad of dough. It was the lightest, almost a teal color. Once finished he put all his dough on the counter and poured the glass beads over it. Stiles then started mixing it all together, kneading it carefully to maintain a swirling effect.

The other kids were enthralled with their own dough, covered in varying amounts of glitter and splotches of dye. Stiles was the only one treating the dough like its own art project. Derek couldn't help but smile. In only a few uses the colors would blend together until it was only a purple blob with beads in it but Stiles still worked carefully. His Little had an attention to detail that people rarely got to see. Most people assumed because of his hyper nature that Stiles was careless or wreckless. They didn't get to see the Stiles that had a wonderful idea; the Stiles that was an artist, or a creator, a scholar.

"Stiles." Keeping a hand on Bher Derek leaned across the counter and tapped the marble in front of Stiles. "Stiles."

He looked up. The affronted look on his face had Derek raising an eyebrow. "Yes Daddy?"

"What happens when you use it?"

"It will...not smell funny?" Stiles had his face screwed up in confusion, obviously not catching on to what his Daddy meant.

"No cub, what happens to the colors?"

"Oh, it'll turn purple 'ventually."

"As long as you know that."

Stiles waved his hand dismissivly. "S'okay Daddy. I made space dough. I can make stuff with the universe now. All that stuff changes 'ventually. Still good stuff though."

Derek wasn't quite sure where to go with that. Sometimes Stiles got a thought into his head and it grew. He'd go a mile a minute in his head expanding on the idea, growing it and jumping tracks, making it into something amazing. Then he'd share the end result without showing his work and, well things like this happened. "Okay. Just...", Derek sighed and straightened up, "as long as you don't upset about it. We can make more."

Stiles hums and plops his dough into the tupperware. It really is beautiful, like its own little dough creation. Derek wouldn't want to use it to mold but he was sentimental about art. Stiles liked to keep things in motion, always eager to move forward. With his own done Stiles starts around the table prodding at everyone elses dough. He tries to add some glitter into Jarett's and ends up having to run behind Derek for safety. Eventually though he settles in next to Bher and watches as the toddler squishes the dough between his fingers with rapt attention.

By the time Laura makes her way into the kitchen Stiles has convinced a very willing Bher that it was a good idea to completely cover his arms in the dough. Laura's so shocked at seeing him docile that she starts badgering Derek to make more of it. She wants enough to completely submerge him in it. Stiles thinks that's perfectly reasonable.


	9. Malia Doesn't Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Malia. Fanon is all about the Sterek but honestly in show I really love Stalia. But for here that's obviously not an option and I can't leave my girl hanging.

Dating and Courting are not the same thing. Courting is traditional. It's chaperoned by an attached mature adult. It's required by law if one of the partners in the relationship is underage or unable to surface from their headspace. Dating was widely considered to be more fun and it's what people did these days. Derek felt a little odd about it. Dating left Sub's at a disadvantage. He hadn't always felt that way. In high school he'd been perfectly happy to give dating a shot. Then after the disaster with Paige he saw the benefits to a proper courting and never dated again.

Malia was going to be courted. There was no way around it. There was no way she'd make an argument compelling enough to have Peter stand aside. No, she was in for a very heavily chaperoned, very extended, courting. Derek almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

"I don't need you to hover!"

"I am not hovering. I do not hover. I am trying to ensure that my daughter--"

Malia threw her head back and groaned. She followed that by stomping through the living room with a low grade growl. Stiles was sitting on his knees on the couch, following her with unbridled amusement. Derek tried to sink lower in his seat. He just wanted to finish this chapter.

"Derek!"

Derek sank further and turned the page. Maybe if he pretended he hadn't heard Peter he could get through this.

"Derek," Peter's hand appeared over the top of Derek's book, shoving it down, "you will chaperone Malia tonight." Derek rolled his eyes up to look at his uncle.

"Maybe I have plans."

Peter scoffed. "Dinner at seven. An hour of t.v., an hour of quiet time, then a bath and bed." Peter plucked the book from Derek's lap and tossed it onto the couch. "Malia needs a chaperone and as she refuses to do what is best for her, I'm asking you to go."

"Daddy showers." Stiles was now sitting on the arm of the couch with a wild smirk. Derek thumps his head back and drowns out the sound of Peter and Stiles bickering. With a sigh he rolls his head to the side to look at Malia. She's standing near the door, back ramrod straight.

Derek stands and makes his way to her. She snorts at him but he slides his hand over her arm and squeezes. "He just wants you to be safe."

"Like Kira is going to hurt me? She's the most pathetic Domme ever."

Derek fights a smile. Kira proves that a Kitsune does not a vixen make. But five minutes in a sparing match with her and there's no doubt she's a capable Domme. "He's not worried about Kira. He's worried about you." Derek tugs her arms free from her chest and holds onto her wrists. "Courting isn't a bad thing. I know for a fact Kira's parents would never let her date. Not while she's under their roof."

"Then she should just move out."

"Like you? Kitsune aren't pack animals but they do run in family units Malia. It'd upset her to be away from them." Derek gives her wrists another squeeze then lets them go. Malia takes a step away from him but her body is wound less tightly. "Someone is going to chaperone tonight. If you'd like I can do it. I'll keep out of the way and give you as much privacy as possible." He could think of a dozen different things he could do with his night but this is important to Malia. She'd confessed to Stiles that she felt like she was living under a clock. That eventually her time would run out and she'd have no say at all who she ended up with. While she didn't fear sinking completely into her headspace, she did fear being at the whims of someone her father handpicked for her. Malia deserved a chance at happiness on her own.

"We're going to a hockey game. How could she take advantage of me there? Me?" Malia looks incredulous at the very thought. She's always been a touch feral, always been a good fighter.

"It isn't always about strength Malia. There are other ways to hurt a person. And its not just Kira you have to worry about. Other people, especially Dom's high on adrenaline, might try to order you around. If Kira can't keep you safe from them then that's an issue. We need to know how she's going to treat you in private and in public. We need to know she's prepared to defend you."

"I don't need to be defended."

"But you deserve to be. Because she loves you and you're precious to us. You deserve to be protected, and you will be. Whether you like it or not."

Malia groaned again and kicked at the rug. "You're not going to but in if I'm getting lucky right?"

Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he shook his head and looked to the ceiling. "Within reason Malia. You'll be in public. PG-13 only okay."

"Fine. Buy us some cocoa when we get there."

"Kira's courting, Kira can pay." Derek turns and leaves her before he gets sucked into a new argument. He knows he'll probably end up buying them cocoa anyways but he has to at least pretend to be firm when Stiles is in earshot. He has a reputation to uphold.

* * *

He does not buy them cocoa. Instead he buys them each a pretzel and pretends he didn't see the condescending look he got from the vendor. Malia and Kira sit up front, close to a goal net. Malia liked the violence hockey offered and she reasoned that she'd get to see more blood by the net. Derek made himself scarce behind them. He was on the back row. He'd have to concentrate to make out their voices over all the noise but he wasn't worried about them. Kira was raised in a strict traditional household. He'd been surprised they even allowed her to take Malia to a sports event.

No, his worry was focused on the other attendees. It's just a small game, organized by a youth center he thinks. All the players are from high school teams but they're mingled together. There's at least three rival schools down by the ice. But no matter how friendly things are suppose to be there will always be that one group that gets drunk. It's a given. He was glad Stiles preferred lacrosse. No beer at the high school, not with Coach Finnstock on duty. You were more likely to get a bomb past him than a cup of alcohol.

When the game started Derek snapped to attention. He kept his eyes on the crowd, mostly on those around the girls, but he scanned everyone. Everyone seemed happy enough. He couldn't scent any aggression in the air, just an air of competitiveness. Malia was happy, a bit enthusiastic at the sight of first blood, but happy. Kira seemed to take it in stride. She kept close, rubbing her hand across the back of Malia's neck or down her arm, but she never lingered. She didn't let her hands stray too far.

When a boy in the rink slammed into the plexiglass right in front of the girls Kira jolted. Her hand clamped down tight on Malia's shoulder out of instinct. Derek laughed and earned himself a glare from Malia. The rest of the night was uneventful. There was a group of drunk men but they were content to sign loud and off key on the opposite side of the rink. Derek let the girls linger as the crowds thinned out. He kept to the snack bar as the two of them talked and petted at each other close to the ice. He let himself drift in and out of the conversation but there didn't seem to be any need. Kira was talking about how she wanted to join a team but her parents had only approve sword fighting. Malia countered that she hadn't been allowed to join anything because Peter had been worried she'd take things too far.

Derek secretly agreed. In high school Stiles had been one of the few people kind enough to take her on. Scott played goalie sometimes for their one on one lacrosse but quit after Malia nailed him in the throat with a ball. Derek remembers Melissa McCall's wrath and Malia's nonchalant confusion. As far as she'd been concerned a ball to the throat was a risk of being a goalie.

Kira's gentle nature would be good for her. She was patient, a product of waiting out her mother. She was also very humble about her own abilities and looks. Derek had only met her a few times but he knew that she interacted well with Stiles. And Stiles was a wonderful judge of character. If he said Kira was a good person Derek was inclined to believe it. Peter was not so sold on her though. But Derek didn't think Peter would settle for anyone being with her. If he had his way Malia would enter an entirely non-sexual arrangement with a medical caretaker. Derek didn't want that for her. No one deserved that, not as their first option.

He let the two of them carry on until nearly everyone else had left. "Kira, Malia, it's time to go." Malia clicks her tongue but settles when Kira gives her a kiss on the cheek. She whispers something that has Malia smiling and relaxing. Then she's leading Malia towards the snack bar. "If you two can keep it PG until we get to Loften Street I'll give you three unsupervised minutes in the backseat." Maybe he shouldn't. Peter would kill him if he found out. But they were still kids, young and in love. They deserved to be a little reckless once in a while.


	10. For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one kind of derailed and we got some sexy times. But there's more to it.

Its not very often that someone cuts down a tree in the preserve. The land is healthy and so many of the trees are old growth. There's some magic running through the ground that helps with upkeep. But even still sometimes things happen. During the most recent storm a bolt of lightning struck a younger tree. It's close enough to the house that Derek's father worries about it. With the way the children climb it's better to be safe than sorry.

It's Talia that goes out and cuts the tree down. She's says it's her duty as the Alpha to care for her land. Mostly Derek's father thinks she just wants an excuse to wield a pole saw. The rest of the pack agrees but keeps quiet. It's important for the Alpha to have her moments. Everyone stays clear of her when they go out for the day but the sound of the saw is always present regardless. Elias and Derek's younger brother Colt decide it's safe to go over when the saw has been off for a solid hour.

They come running back to the house with wood piled high in their little arms. Talia follows behind at a more sedate pace holding a stack of wooden discs. "Art supplies." She slips them to Derek. Then she herds the boys back to the woods to help her gather up the rest of the wood. They'll repurpose it all for something. Even though cutting down a new growth tree isn't worthy of a ritual the pack still feels the need to honor their land. Most of the wood in their house comes from trees cut right out of the preserve. The discs were part of a branch and eventually the kids would turn them into little paintings. Or maybe chew toys.

Because he's a little bit of an asshole, Derek takes the best disc from the lot and sticks it on his dresser. It's not the biggest but the wood is smooth and evenly colored. Stiles will make something nice out of it. He dumps the rest of them into the art supply closet in the playroom.

After Stiles' gets home from daycare he tears through the house up to his room. He'd spotted the wood outside and knew, just knew, his Daddy would keep a special piece for him. Wood was special to him, especially if it came from the preserve. When he handled it he felt more in tune with his spark. On their dresser is a prime piece of wood. Stiles doesn't pick it up, just runs his fingers over its surface. He calls on the spark inside of him, just enough to really feel the wood. The feeling of magic buzzes in his fingertips and drags over the wood, telling him what he should do with it.

"You want to take it upstairs and paint it?"

Stiles shakes his head and bounces over to the bed. "Not today Daddy. Can you read me something?"

For a while after that the wood seems forgotten. Derek sees it in the morning when he's getting Stiles' clothes but he figures it's best to leave it be. Maisy had already painted three of the disks upstairs. Stiles hasn't mentioned his though. Derek almost feels bad for stealing the best one if it's not going to get used but he stops short of putting it upstairs every time.

Then it's the night of the full moon and Derek is trying to get Stiles in his pajamas before the urge to shift and run overtakes him. That's when Stiles decides he wants to paint his disk. "Stiles just put on your pajamas." Derek holds out the sleep pants and shakes them in Stiles' direction.

"Daddy I want to paint tonight. While you run." He wiggles his hips and tugs on the ends of his underwear. He'd been in such a hurry to get out of the shower that he hadn't dried off properly. His skin was still damp in patches. "I can paint?"

"Put on your pajamas and we'll see." Derek holds out the pants again and kneels by Stiles' feet. Above him Stiles put his hands on his Daddy's shoulders and steps into the pants. They're soft cotton and threadbare. Derek likes them best on full moon nights. When his skin is still hyper sensitive and his body is agitated it's the best thing to snuggle up against. After he's adjusted the waistband properly Derek stands and pulls Stiles in for a hug. For a moment they stand there, Stiles pressed firmly to his Daddy, held in by strong arms. Derek sniffs and huffs along Stiles' neck and hair, scenting him and calming his wolf.

Tonight Stiles is staying inside with the other humans. On full moon nights he gets a pass to stay up late, just like all the other children. He usually falls asleep before eleven despite this. His sleep schedule is so well engrained at this point that it's difficult to shake. "I wanna paint Daddy." He mumbles it into Derek's neck then gives the skin their a little nip. Derek groans and leans over to pick up a pacifier and slips it into Stiles' mouth.

"That's up to Mitch. He's watching you tonight so you'd better behave."

Stiles gives him a little salute and snatches his wooden disk off the dresser. He follows closely behind Derek as they go down the stairs, his nose almost knocking into the back of Derek's head at every step. The wolves are gathered on the porch and the humans are gathered in the living room. Bher and Malia are locked in some sort of growling match which Malia is very childishly trying to win.

"Daddy?" Stiles tugs on Derek's jeans. "Paint?" He holds the disk up and rocks on the balls of his feet.

"Mitch, Stiles wants to paint."

Mitch is generally very sweet tempered and easygoing. Before he even says anything Derek knows he's going to come home to a Stiles reeking of watercolor paints. "Sure, I'll set him up in the kitchen." Derek wants to sigh but Stiles is clutching the wood like it's a treasure and there's a smile a mile wide behind his pacifier. Instead he ducks down and kisses Stiles under his chin.

"Behave. Clean up afterwards." Then Talia howls from the front lawn and everything descends into playful chaos. The Hale pack bounds into the forest and scatters, bounding and crashing through underbrush. Cora leads Malia on a wild chase to the Eastern most point of their property. Derek chased Bher up a tree around nine and spent another hour whining and running from Laura who didn't find it funny at all. Peter and his brood play a complicated game of manhunt that no one ever really wins.

When the moon is winding down and Talia howls for them all to come home Derek is still a little wired. Sometimes Stiles comes with them during the moon but it usually leads to an accident so he'll end up at home for the next. Then Derek misses him and it's a vicious cycle. Tonight Derek wants to crawl into bed with Stiles and hump against him like an animal. They do that most full moons, or something like it at least. Sometimes Stiles is sleepy and warm, slack against the mattress while Derek ruts and rubs like a teenager. Sometimes he's playful and Derek has to push a pacifier in his mouth to keep his giggling quiet.

Tonight when he heads upstairs Stiles is awake. He's sprawled across the bed on his belly. One hand is tucked under him and the other is curled loosely around his pacifier. Derek can make out the dark colors staining his fingertips. "Stiles?" Derek pads into the room and slinks onto the bed. Stiles meets him half way, spitting out the pacifier and giving him a soft kiss.

"Made somethin' for you Daddy." The little wooden disk is in his hands. He holds it out for Derek to take with a smile. On it's front is a messy wolf made with fingerprints and food coloring. On the back there's a dark, neatly drawn triskelion. Mitch had drilled a hole in the top and added a clip. "To keep you safe Daddy." Derek holds it gingerly. He's come to learn that he can't always feel the magic Stiles' uses. Sometimes he just has to believe that Stiles knows what he's doing, and that he's done it right.

He kisses Stiles again, let's himself linger. He grunts when Stiles sucks at his bottom lip. They fall to the bed, trading kisses and nips. Derek still feels a little hyper. He pushes on Stiles' hip, tucking him down onto his front. Stiles laughs and tips his hips up. "S'good Daddy." Derek groans and digs his knees into the bed and grinds himself down against the swell of Stiles' ass. He feels so close. Derek drops his head down, his breath coming out harshly against Stiles' neck.

"Jus' a little more. Little more." Derek spreads his knees farther apart on the bed, dropping down even more on Stiles, pressing them both down to the crumbled sheets. Derek grinds his hips down in circles. Underneath of him Stiles is panting, his fingers are curled in the sheets and his toes are trying to dig into the mattress.

"D-Daddy help." Stiles groans and tries to dig his hand under himself so Derek pulls back. He pulls on Stiles' hip and shoves a hand under him, grabbing him through his sleep pants. Stiles sucks in a deep breath and for a second Derek worries he's going to yell but he bites his pillow instead. Derek huffs and yanks Stiles' hips up, let's his weight settle across his back. Derek keeps up a frantic pace with his hips and hands. They're almost there Derek can feel it, knows Stiles is close too. The sound of his heartbeat is almost deafening from where Derek is, his ear pressed to Stiles' sweat damp shirt.

Stiles comes with a gasp. He slumps fully onto the bed, letting out a breathy laugh as Derek groans. He flings his arm back and tries to grab the back of his Daddy's neck, catches his hair instead. Derek nips at Stiles' shoulders and ruts a few more times then he's tipping over too. He rides out the waves of his orgasm, rolling his hips into Stiles' limp body. 

When it's over he lets himself relax over Stiles. He likes the feeling of his Daddy lying on top of him, like he's keeping him safe from everything.

When Derek moves to roll away Stiles kicks his leg out. "Stay Daddy. S'okay, you're not squishin' me."

"We need to get clean."

Stiles whines. "Clean tomorrow." Derek wants to tell him no. It hasn't even been five minutes and already Derek can feel his pants going tacky. He's ready to get up, even turns his head away from Stiles' pouting face. Then he sees the little wooden painting. Stiles had waited until the full moon to finger paint a talisman for him.

"Tomorrow." Derek kisses Stiles behind his ear, then lazily bites the shell of his ear. "But we're taking a bath."

"Uggghhhhh, Daddy no baths!"


	11. Flower Crowns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a little bit of extra fun check out the flower meanings.

Stiles can get behind flower crowns. They're pretty and fun, playful. There's plenty of flowers growing wild in the woods of the preserve. Sometimes Laura would bring home the extras from her shop for around the house and she never minded when Stiles dug out the ones he liked best. Before he started wearing skirts most of his flower crowns went to Maisy or Lydia. Now that he doesn't have to worry about any of that ridiculous gender specific stuff Stiles starts making them for himself. His favorite are begonia's. They're suppose to be a symbol for deep thoughts, which Stiles appreciates. But they're also very pretty.

Laura's shop doesn't get a lot of requests for them because they're not practical for arrangements. But then the Whittermore's are planning a vow renewal ceremony and Mrs. Whittermore wanted begonias before she changed her mind at the last second to freesias and daffodils. Laura thinks it looks like a disaster and Mitch dutifully keeps her quiet about the whole thing during the delivery. Which means the begonias were going to go to waste really. That's why Stiles doesn't feel the slightest bit guilty for pestering Laura nonstop until she agreed to give him all the left overs.

And because Mitch is such a sweetheart, he brings home some floral tape and ribbon too. So now he's spread across the floor in the playroom sitting in his own field of flowers. They're not the easiest flowers to work into crowns but Stiles is determined. He's not sure when he'll get another opportunity to make a stack of flower crowns for a pack of werewolves. Which he is so doing right now. And everyone will wear one, even his Daddy. Especially his Daddy. He's been angling for his Daddy in flowers for months now.

He's got a few done already, he's been staggering them out with heather flowers, because the stems help give it stability. The pastel orange looks a little weird with the small purple buds, which is why those are going to the kids. He's trying to save all the pretty pink ones for himself and Daddy. Rude maybe, but he's making them so he gets the say. He rocks to the side and snatches up the floral tape and secures the last little weave on the crown in his hand. He fixes it on his head and plucks up a big bloom for the centerpiece of his next crown.

Downstairs it's noisy. Almost everyone is roped into a game of Trivial Pursuit and by the sounds of if Peter and Talia have formed a team. Any other time he'd be eager to join the fray. He's really the best. Uncle Peter knows a lot but most of it's about magic and they don't have the magic edition because then only he and Uncle Peter would play so where's the fun in that? Stiles huffs and rocks up onto his knees then tucks his skirt under his butt.

"I can have fun all by myself." Stiles furrows his brow in concentration and starts winding another stalk of heather with the begonias. He wants to use ribbon in this one too since he's gotten the hang of it. Mitch had brought him some white and green. He winds a little bit into the weave and makes a tiny bow.

After a little while the sounds downstairs quiets down. He doesn't have enhanced hearing but he knows Peter and Talia won if they worked together. His Daddy probably came in second. He was the best at the history questions behind Uncle Peter. It's easier to concentrate on the flowers when he's not interested on what's going on downstairs. The rest of the crowns are done in no time. When he fixes the last ribbon in place he pulls the early crown from his head and puts his favorite in it's place. There's a giant pink begonia in the center and he managed to fix two pieces of heather around it like laurals. There's even a big loopy bow in the back with long tails that tickle his neck.

Stiles loops the others onto his arm and heads downstairs. He passes Maisy first. She's sitting at the top of the stairs with a metal slinky. "For you M'lady." Stiles gives a jaunty bow and tucks the crown onto her head. Her's is mostly heather because purple is her favorite. But there's a few begonia buds, in a powdery orange, sprinkled around. She takes it with a smile and bows back at him. Stiles helps her properly tip her slinky down the stairs before he moves on. He beats it to the bottom and uses his socks to slide into the living room.

Uncle Peter and Daddy are leaning towards each other, kind of arguing with each other. Or having a very exasperating conversation. Stiles is happy to see that expression directed at someone else for once. He bites his lip to keep from laughing and starts planting crowns on everyone else. Malia looks too seconds away from biting his hand off but wears it regardless. Hers is ribbon free. Alpha and Grandpa Gavin both take theres and crown each other with a thank you. And Uncle Peter knocks his chin against Stiles' ear in thanks.

Daddy is last. He's sitting in his favorite wing back chair and he's got a big smile on his face. He leans forward and lets Stiles crown him. The blooms on this one are bright pink and big. There's little buds crammed in everywhere with bows accompaning them. It looks absolutely amazing on him. Stiles bounces in place, clapping happily. "It's good Daddy. You look the best!"

"Better than you?"

Stiles stands still and scoffs. "No. I didn't think I had to say Daddy."

Derek blinks slowly but holds his hands out in surrender regardless. "My apologies." He holds his arms out and Stiles takes the invitation, sliding into his lap. Derek kisses him on the forehead, narrowly avoiding a petal up the nose. "This is where you've been all day?"

Stiles nods against Derek's neck. "All day." He starts plucking at his Daddy's sweater. It's his soft maroon one with thumb holes. Stiles steals it when he can. Normally he'd be bouncing off the walls after so much inactivity but he hasn't gotten quality snuggle time in a while. Daddy's been deep in a book for some college professor. He's been living off of Cora's attention for far too long. "We can take pictures?" He really wants a picture of his Daddy in a flower crown. A real one. Not a photoshopped one like all the embarassing junk Cora does when she's bored.

"Sure. Before dinner." Derek puts his arms around Stiles, pulling him in, then sinking back in the chair. They cuddle in the chair for a while longer. Stiles doesn't want to get up but his legs are starting to itch with restlessness and he thinks he might have to pee.

"Potty Daddy, then pit'chure." He pushes away from his Daddy's chest with a groan and practically slides onto the floor. Daddy catches him with a well practised ease and nudges him towards the bathroom. Stiles doesn't feel like he needs another nap. He'll hit his second wind soon. And by the time he's washing his hands he can't believe just sat so still for so long. He takes the stairs down two at a time. The loud thump, thump, thump of his socked feet against the stairs are like a flashing warning to Daddy that he's ready to play again.

Downstairs everyone is filing outside for a photo. His Daddy is holding out a pair of Iron Man rain boots for him. He tugs them on with glee and pushes his Daddy out onto the lawn by the small of his back. The whole pack lines up in front of the trees, all wearing their crowns. "Who's takin' the pit'chure?" Grandpa Gavin holds up his camera. It has a special setting that lets them time a picture.

While Gavin fixed the camera to the tripod Stiles jostled for a good postion. Around him the pack gathered, bumping shoulders and growling at each other. Mitch held Bher aloft while Cora makes faces at him. Peter's sons are trying to wear their crowns at tilts like it'd make it more manly. Stiles decides to sit in the grass with Colt. Derek kneels behind him and rubs their cheeks together. No one is really paying attention when the flash goes off.

The picture goes in the living room, above the television. There are eye flares everywhere. Colt's almost wipes Stiles' face out of the picture entirely but Stiles loves how his Daddy is looking at him. He loves that all of them are wearing his crowns, big burly monsters of the night wearing flowers. It makes him feel warm inside, content. He always knew someday he'd have a Daddy. Finding himself inside of a family, a pack, it's more than he ever hoped for.


	12. Isaac Lahey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's only a blink of Sterek in this one but I really miss Isaac so here we go.

Sibling rivalry is a law of nature. In a wolf pack it can feel like a war. Derek made it a habit to not get on Laura's bad side just like he made it a habit to annoy the shit out of Cora. Colt was lucky enough to escape his older siblings' wrath almost entirely. But in exchange he had to deal with Peter's kids. Stiles could only kind of understand. He'd been an only child but with Scott in the picture he could say he at least knew the general feeling.

Sibling rivalry was unfamiliar to Isaac. After his brother died and his father went off the deep end he got turned. Their neighbors had been shifters. They smelt blood and charged into the house. Imagine their surprise when instead of finding an intruder they find a drunk Mr. Lahey brandishing a bloody glass bottle. They called an ambulance and when they were sure it wouldn't do any good, they called Talia. Isaac woke up as a wolf the next morning. But he couldn't stay. Couldn't face his peers knowning that they knew. Talia had been kind about it. She placed him an hour away with Kali.

Isaac had been put off at first. Kali was brash but a Mommy. He thought maybe Talia was trying to send him a message, or handle him with kid gloves. Turns out Talia was being smart. Kali wouldn't baby him but she'd give him what he needed as his Alpha. In her pack Isaac learned that being a sub didn't make you weak. Being a Were didn't make you a pet. Isaac could be whatever he wanted. Right now he wanted very much to be with Cora. They met a few times in passing. Mostly Isaac saw Derek and Stiles. Since Kali had taken on Isaac as her foster child he'd also gained Julia as a foster mother. Which meant sometimes he went to the daycare center.

Isaac picked her up a lot because his work was closer. Stiles had sniffed out his attraction to Cora like a bloodhound. Sometimes Isaac had to take a step back and just practice his breathing because it would be poor form to smack a Little in front of his Daddy. Sometimes though he could be downright helpful. "So Daddy says you can come to dinner 'cause we're 'viting everyone. Everyone special. S'like an autumn party."

Isaac nods, trying to look aloof but honestly he's hanging onto every word. The most corespondance he gets with Cora these days is through online gaming or snarky e-mails. They used the same gym but their schedules didn't match up and Isaac didn't like the smug look Kali got when he went out of his way to change his routine. "Should I bring something?" Isaac does roll his eyes this time; because not only did Stiles actually start bouncing, he slipped and nearly brained himself on the floor too.

"Something sweet, something sweet." Stiles was still bouncing around when Derek came up behind him. Isaac leaned in and let Derek rub his wrist along the side of his face, then he went to find Julia.

Her and Kali knew about the party. They'd already declined the invitation, deciding instead to have a night in to themselves. It's not until the next night so Isaac lets himself think over what he's bringing. He knows Cora likes the chocolate pie from Deliah's. There's a touch of cayene in it but it's very rich. He's not sure the rest of the pack like it either. So he could bring something specifically for Cora or he could try to appeal to everyone and bring something boring like apple pie of vanilla cupcakes. There's no way he's making something.

In the end Isaac decides to ask Julia. She knows Stiles best and Stiles would know what the pack would like. He waits until after dinner. Her and Kali don't have a strict schedule. So long as Julia is being well behaved she gets to do anything she wants before eleven. She's her most amicable when she's reading. Isaac saunters into the room, casually looking around like he's busy, until she finishes her chapter.

"Isaac?"

"Hey Julia. Good book?"

Julia raises her eyebrows and holds up the book to show her the cover. It's Percy Jackson, her favorite. "Want something?"

"I'm going to the store tomorrow morning. Want something special?"

"You should buy oatmeal cookies."

Isaac makes a face. Who under the age of sixtyy actually likes oatmeal cookies? "Really?"

"The soft ones. Without icing. Stiles brought one to the daycare once. His Father makes them and the pack really likes them."

Isaac huffs but accepts the advice. He spends the rest of the night lounging with his tablet next to Julia. Around midnight he finally clicked it off and went to bed. And in the morning he nearly kicked himself for it.

Julia woke up with a tantrum. She didn't want to get out of bed. She didn't want to get dressed. She didn't want French toast. Isaac ended up eating an overpriced breakfast at Starbucks just to get away. He spends the next few hours mooching off the free Wi-Fi and stalking Cora's facebook page. When that gets him nowhere he starts clicking through the other members of the Hale pack. Mostly it's pictures of smiling kids covered in grass stains and statuses about the general chaos of planning a party.

Just before noon he clicks over to Scott's page. The two of them share a few classes at the community college. Scott wants to be a vet and Isaac is studying to be a nurse. Scott is how Isaac recognised Stiles. He'd noticed Derek of course, but he'd never seen Stiles, wouldn't have noticed him if Scott didn't have him as his phone background. It was sort of weird how all of them seemed to just run into each other.

Scott's page was covered with photos. Mostly photo's of Allison and Stiles, but he could make out Cora in the background of a few. His most recent status is 'almost lost a finger worth it' under a picture of a half eaten pastry. Isaac snorts and clicks on Stiles' page. There's not much there. Stiles has structured computer time and rarely squanders it on social networking. Most of his page is selfies or quick shots of Derek that he puts up to share with the Sheriff. There isn't even anything on there from today but after scrolling a bit Isaac does see a blurry close up of Stiles holding an oatmeal cookie.

Since Stiles is the one who extended him the invitation, even if it had been on Derek's behalf, it made sense that he'd bring something Stiles liked. And Stiles might be more willing to help his cause if he was being bribed with junk food. Julia had told him that Derek ruled over Stiles' diet with an iron fist. Caffeine wasn't a no go, something about his ADHD, but sweets and junk? Stiles had an allotted amount per month, baring special occassions. Isaac figured if he could slip Stiles a few extra cookies while Derek was busy he might get some tips on how to woo Cora.

Deciding his wallet couldn't take a lunch at Starbucks too he headed off. Stiles had made it clear that even though the invitation was for dinner, he really was allowed over all day. He made his way to the closest store and picked up a brown bag of mini oatmeal cookies. He wasn't sure what a good brand was so he picked the one that smelt the least like preservatives. He wandered around in the store for a while after. Kali had drilled into him that it was polite to bring a gift if you were invited into another Alpha's home. And Talia was more than just a neighboring Alpha, she was his creator.

Isaac knew his crush on Cora didn't have anything to do with it, but he couldn't deny that somewhere deep inside his wolf yearned to be back in her pack. In the end he snatched up a box of tension calming tea. There weren't any sigil's or runes on the box so it was standard human fare. He thought she liked tea though.  
Not having eaten since breakfast Isaac decides he's wasted enough time and heads to the Hale house. The second he hits the sign for the preserve he can hear the party. There's music and kids screeching all over the place. Kali doesn't have a pack house. Everyone lives close to eachother but they all have their own space. When he was younger it had been a blessing. No though he wished for a little more closeness.

As he walks through the trail that leads up to the house he can sense the kids in the trees. Some human, some wolf. There's at least one other creature out there but Isaac doesn't bother trying to figure it out. There's no danger. Isaac hears a chorus of giggles and remembers that he's holding a giant bag of cookies. So he's in a little bit of danger of being mugged by kids jonsing for a sugar high. Nothing he can't handle. He howls playfully at them. Together he and the kids make it up to the house, exchanging yips and growls. They all manage to stay out of sight but Isaac can pinpoint their tiny heartbeats and swift feet.

At the clearing Isaac was greeted with a round of howls and hellos from every direction. Cora was sitting up on the porch, lounged out across the railing. Her toes were brushing a thick bush. Isaac got the embarassing urge to nip at her ankle. To keep himself from following that thought he sought out Talia. She was standing by the grill. He listened carefully, tuning out the rest of the noise to pick up her conversation. Her and her husband were talking about the food. They were playfully ribbing each other about techniqe.  
Deciding it was safe, especially since the grill was on the opposite side of the lawn from Cora, Isaac made his way over. "Alpha Hale, Mayor, I have something for you." Isaac held his grocery bag aloft for Talia to take. Gavin leaned over her shoulder and peeked into the bag. He made a move to take the cookie bag adn she elbowed him in the stomach.

"Thank you Isaac. Could you put it in the kitchen?"

"Yes Alpha Hale."

"Talia please dear."

Isaac smiled and rolled his shoulders back. "Talia." He wanted to impress her. She could be his Alpha again someday. Hopefully soon. He has to pass by Cora on his way into the house. She rolls her head to the side and raises an eyebrow at him. Her and Derek are way too alike sometimes. "Hey Cora."

"You know feeding him is like feeding a stray dog."

Isaac frowns. "What?"

Cora rolls her eyes and swings around to sit on the railing. Her hair falls over her shoulder on one side. It's just barely curled today. "Stiles." She says it like it's obvious. "Oatmeal cookies are his favorite. He'll never leave you alone now."

Isaac shrugs. He pretty much figured Stiles was a permenant fixture anyways. "Maybe I'll teach him a few tricks."

Cora snorts and looks off to the side, away from Isaac. It's difficult to make out with the smell of grilling meat and so many sweating people, but Isaac thinks he can smell fondness. It's not arousal, not yet. Honestly he'd be a little weirded out if she were aroused so easily. But this is good. She's fond of him. He can work with that.


	13. Sniffles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so short today. Hopefully the cuteness will make up for it.

Children carry germs like bees carry pollen. Bher went to day care sometimes, just enough for him to intergrate with normal human children. But most days he went with Laura to the flower shop. When he started kindergarten Derek feared that he'd bring home a whole host of germs to infect Stiles with. Which is why it's a complete shock when Stiles comes home sick and no one in Bher's class is sick. Not even a sniffle. No, some immensly inteligent person decided to bring their sick Little to the day care. Needless to say Derek was not the only pissed off Caretaker.

He would have a little more sympathy if the Little actually needed to be watched over. But no, his Mommy just wanted a quiet afternoon and thought her Little was smart enough to sanitise himself. Derek found himself growling absently at the thought. Now Stiles was sick. A sick Stiles was a whiny Stiles. He couldn't blame Stiles for feeling bad, but he could fume and rant and rage in his head about idiot caretakers and their poor decision making skills.

At the moment Stiles was face down in the sheets, knees drawn up under him with his butt in the air. His whole face was pink with fever. Before he'd gone downstairs to get a cold Gatoraide he'd swept the mass of used tissues into the trash. Derek grimmaced at the sight of his sheets. Because he'd moved the tissues Stiles had used the corner of the bedding to wipe his nose.

"Stiles." Derek set the sippy cup of iced Gatoraide on the nightstand and pushed at Stiles' raised hips. Stiles groaned and slowly slid his legs out until he was flat to the bed. "Stiles you have to drink something." Stiles groaned again, then started coughing so hard he shook the bed. Derek's face screwed up in sympathy as Stiles' body wracked with coughs and his chest stuttered for breath. As his body eases up Derek can hear the rabbit quick beat of his heart and the way he tries to drag in big gulps of air. "Shh, shh, Stiles calm down." Derek rubs his hand down Stiles' back.

Stiles chokes out a little whine and tucks his face into the pillow. He feels achy and hot all over and it's just not fair. He feels his Daddy dig into the dip of his lower back, the spot he usually loves having rubbed, but it hurts. His lip trembles for a second while his eyes screw up, then he's crying. He hates being sick. Hates it so much.  
Derek huffs in despair and lays out next to Stiles. He moves Stiles until his runny nose is tucked into his neck. He knows Stiles needs to drink something but it can wait until after his cry. Once he's exhausted it'll be easier to shove the nub into his mouth. A sleepy Stiles is a maliable one. Derek rubs one hand over Stiles scalp and keeps the other one running up and down his back. He's warm, running hot enough to have him worried. He's already stripped the comforter and Stiles is down to just a thin shirt and his underwear.

"You ready for juice?"

"Nooooo." Stiles chokes out a few more sobs against Derek's neck as he tries to wriggle away. But his limbs are achy and heavy so he doesn't give far.  
Derek doesn't release him. He takes the arm off of Stiles' head and leans back to get the sippy cup. His other arm is tight around Stiles' middle and more than enough to keep him in place. "Too bad. Sick little boys need juice." Derek curls back to him and forces the tip of the cup into his mouth.

Stiles sucks on instinct. Immediatly he's whining and trying to wrestle his way free. All he can manage is getting his mouth free. "S'not juice. Liar!" He twists up his mouth and arches his head back to get away from the watered down Gatorade.

"Stiles, stop that." Derek grabs Stiles' face and pushes the sippy cup back into his mouth. For a second the two of them are at a stand still. Derek waits until Stiles' has calmed down and wiggles the sippy cup. He gives Stiles a kiss on the forehead when he hears sucking. They lay together until the juice is gone. It isn't long after that, that Stiles is drifting off to sleep.

Derek can still hear a rattle in his lungs, not audible to humans, so he knows Stiles will work through it in a day or two. Until then Stiles is going to whine and fuss and cry like an actual baby. Derek curls closer to Stiles and takes a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell in his hair. "I'm going to smother you with love." He kisses Stiles on the forehead. "Smother you."


	14. Bees in His Belly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles deals with some anxiety today.

Sometimes Stiles will hear something, someone talking about their job, an off hand comment, and it ruins his day. Stiles doesn't know why it happens. He just worries too much. His mind will latch onto something and run away. It doesn't take long for his face to feel hot. And that feeling travels down, creeping through his body like he's sticking himself into an oven. Then the nausea starts, a tight little ball of sick that sits in his gut. But he can never throw it up to get it out.

Sometimes the feeling stays with him all day and his body flashes hot and cold. Sometimes he can think about something else and it'll pass. But even when that happens Stiles can't shake the sadness that follows him around the rest of the day. It's anxiety. Stiles has had a lot of time to get use to it, his father too. Daddy picked up quick. He learned how to get him somewhere quiet during an attack. He figured out which aftercare techniques carried over to bring him up out of his anxious haze.

But sometimes Daddy's soft words and sweets weren't enough. Sometimes Stiles just had a bad day and that was that. Today was a bad day. He woke up okay. They had French toast and Daddy had peeled him an orange. Then after breakfast Malia got a phone call from Kira. She was growing up. She might move away just like his other friends had.  
And someday the kids would grow up and wouldn't want to play games with him anymore. Thing were good now. He liked that the friends that stayed close could still find time to visit him. He liked that he could be himself with the kids. He liked that his Alpha and Grandpa Gavin were still young and strong enough to pick him up and swing him around. Someday he would wake up and it'll all be different. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Stiles pressed his fists to his eyes and leaned forward to press his face to the floor. He was on his knees on his time out rug. Daddy hadn't sent him there but it was a soft quiet place and he needed that right now. And no one ever bothered him when he was on his rug. Stiles tried to calm himself down but his breath was still coming out in quick shallow pants. He could feel the tears building up and burning behind his eyelids.

He didn't want to cry about it. It was stupid. Stiles just wanted to have a fun day. He dug his fists into his eyes and gulped in a few deep breaths. He couldn't stop his tears but his chest felt a little lighter and the nausea was gone for now. He still felt down though. Still couldn't focus on anything else other than change. Time took his mother away. Time made his father tired. Time was going to ruin everything. He couldn't stop that.

Stiles flung himself up then rocked side to side on his knees. He grabbed handfuls of his skirt and let himself cry. "Daaaaaaaddyyyyy!" Stiles tipped his head back and let out a couple of wet gasps. He knew his Daddy was close by. He never went far when Stiles was having one of his days. It seems like his Daddy makes it to him in the blink of an eye. He holds up his arms and makes grabby hands until Derek leans down and picks him up.

The best part of having a werewolf for a Daddy is the strength. Stiles knows he's lucky that his Daddy can carry him around. Some Littles never get to know what it feels like to be carried around like an actual toddler. Stiles loves it. On days like this it can be the best feeling in the world to curl up on his Daddy like a pill bug and let himself be loved.  
Derek coos and tucks an arm under Stiles' butt and thighs. His other arm is across his shoulders, holding his little boy tight to his chest. He rocks his weight from one foot to the next, gently swaying Stiles. He waits until Stiles' cries have tapered off to staggered snuffles and the occasional hitched breath, to walk over to his iPod dock. He pulls up Stiles' soothing playlist and sets it to a low volume.

Derek walks a slow circuit through his room, keeping Stiles cradled close. Stiles tries to focus on the sound of his Daddy's breathing and the little hums and half mumbled lyrics being whispered into his hair. The longer they pace through the room the easier it is for Stiles to focus on his Daddy, on what they have now. Tomorrow isn't so scary when he's wound up tight in Daddy's arms. By the time his playlist is over Stiles feels like he can breathe properly.

"We should have ice cream Daddy."

Derek tips his head, resting his cheek against the top of Stiles' head. "Yeah?"

"Hm. Strawberry."  
Derek hefts Stiles up higher and heads towards the stairs. "Daddy wants to watch Lilo and Stitch. How's that sound?"

Stiles presses a quick kiss to his Daddy's neck. "Sounds good Daddy." How bad can tomorrow be if Daddy's going to be with him?


	15. Wild Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I've officially caught up with my pre-written stuff and I hope to continue posting one a day but it might end up being one every other day after this.

Now that day care was a thing Derek didn't worry about who he'd leave Stiles with if he needed to do something. But day care wasn't open today, personal conflicts with the caretakers. So for the first time in months Derek had to leave Stiles at home, with Malia. Malia was in no way his first choice. It wasn't about Malia being a Pet. It wasn't about Malia's tendency to regress. If anything Malia was a fierce guard dog for Stiles while she was in her headspace. No, Derek's reluctance was because Malia had a tendency to let Stiles do whatever he wanted. She didn't see the point in a structured day. And it went against her submissive classification to punish him. But Malia was the only one home.  
To make it to his meeting on time he'd had to leave around three in the morning. He'd kissed Stiles on the forehead, traded out his thumb for his pacifier, and crept quietly out of the house. Now he's pulling up to the house and he couldn't be more afraid. The whole drive home he'd thought about every possible scenario including but not limited to a broken bones and a missing section of floor.

The house is quiet though. Most of the pack is busy today. Fall festivals have started up and being active members of the community, most of the Hale pack is heavily involved in preparation. Malia was the only one not actively involved in any of the festivals. Derek took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. To delay the inevitable he took his time grabbing his satchel from the passenger side, fiddling with the flap and straps until he didn't have any other excuse.

At the porch he strained his ears, listening for any clue to the situation he was about to enter. But it was quiet. Too quiet. Derek rolls his eyes to the sky and takes a deep centering breath. When he opens the door he can hear Malia shuffling through papers. Maybe a magazine. Derek walks as quietly as he can into the living room, his head tipped forward to sneak a peek. He expects Stiles to be elbow deep in sweets or maybe tied up with his mouth duct taped shut. Instead he sees an absolute disaster area.

There are toys absolutely everywhere. No messy art supplies, so small miracles. But it seems that every other toy in the house is strewn about. Malia is on the couch and she's flipping through a magazine. He comes up behind her and looks to the floor. Stiles is sprawled there, passed out, starfished. His skirt is flipped up over his waist, showing off his Spiderman underwear. His socks are mismatched and the bottoms are black with dirt. There's marker scribbling's all over his thighs and forearms. He smells like he has chocolate milk in his hair. He's not even sure how that's possible.

Derek glares down at the top of Malia's head. "What happened?"

Malia sinks down father on the couch and refuses to look at him. "I forgot his medication." Ignoring Derek's choked noise she pushes on. "He always takes it in your room okay. I've never actually seen him take it. Then he was bouncing off the walls and I remembered." She points her toes and nudges at Stiles' leg. His leg rocks but Stiles shows no signs he's noticed. "So I gave him some soda and sugar and let him run it out."

Derek sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't...Malia, why didn't you just give him his medication?"

Malia twisted and glared at him. "I thought it'd be bad for him?" She stared him down. To her Derek was no more intimidating than her Dad but she didn't like letting him down. But it was an honest mistake on her part. She didn't understand how humans worked sometimes. Medication had weird rules right?

Derek takes another deep breath. He can practically smell Malia's indignation. He can understand why she'd be uncomfortable administering his meds. And maybe he could have left a note. But a phone call, hell even a text, had been an option. She should have asked. Caffeine worked in a pinch to take the edge off but it wasn't a proper way to medicate. "Call me next time." Derek rounds the couch and scoops Stiles up. He comes limply, his limbs dangling every which way before Derek can roll him to his chest. While getting him situated Derek's fingers slide over something sticky on Stiles' back. At his grimace Malia laughs. "You babysat, you clean up."

Malia's mouth drops open for a second then she growls. She's raised up, coiled to spring. "That's not fair. He's you're Little!"

"But today he was your responsibility. If you didn't want a mess you shouldn't have let him make it." Derek doesn't wait for her retort. If you let yourself get sucked into an argument with her you end up going in circles. One of her defining traits is her inability to understand anyone else's point when it disagrees with her actions.

He really doesn't want to put Stiles on the bed but he's also not ready to wake Stiles up before the bath is ready. Derek ends up easing him to the bed regardless. The sheets can be washed but there's no telling what Stiles could do to himself while sleepily stumbling through the bathroom. Derek runs the water and adds a small amount of bubbles. He tests the temperature and flicks the water off his fingers.

Stiles is exactly where he left him, half hanging off the bed and still dead to the world. Derek kneels at his feet and starts pulling off his socks. "Stiles. Cub, wake up." Derek grabs Stiles' legs and runs his hands up and down his calves until his palms start feeling warm. "Stiles." When he hears Stiles groan he presses a gentle kiss to his kneecap. "Wake up, come on."

With a long groan Stiles rolls to his side and off the bed. He nearly kicks his Daddy in the head on the way down. "Daddy?" Stiles props himself up and twists at the waist to see what's happening. "Daddy you home?" Stiles crawls into his Daddy's lap, making sleepy noises the whole way. With his face tucked up under Derek's chin and his sleep warm limbs sprawled over his lap Derek can't help but smile. Even the smell of old chocolate milk isn't too off putting.

He hates days away from Stiles. Daycare is different because he knows Stiles is only twenty minutes away. He knows Stiles is having fun there and he can pick him up whenever. But when he has to go away for work it's difficult. He has no way of knowing how Stiles is going to behave when he wakes up. If he's going to have an anxious day or a rowdy one. It's just nice to be home. Derek squeezes tight around Stiles' middle and picks him up.

Derek carries him slowly to the bathroom, muttering about his day as he goes. Stiles is so lost between his Daddy's words and the feel of being carried that he almost doesn't notice what's going to happen. Just as they're about to turn the corner into the bathroom he catches on. Stiles jerks and flails, trying to escape from the hold his Daddy has on him. Unfortunately for him Derek had somewhat expected this.

Bath's were a struggle. Stiles didn't mind getting clean, he just didn't like baths. So when Stiles tried to break free Derek braced himself and jerked himself back to pull Stiles back into his body. He wrapped his arm tight around the back of Stiles' thighs and the other around his back. He managed to wrangle him into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him. "Stiles."

Stiles doesn't even have to look to know the stern look on his Daddy's face. He knows he's gross. He has milk in his hair. He just doesn't like baths that's all. Why couldn't Daddy have put him in the shower? They could shower together. "No bath Daddy. No bath." Stiles tries to skirt around his Daddy. He's not successful.

Derek catches him by the scruff of his neck and plucks at his skirt. "Yes bath. Daddy likes giving you baths." Under his hand Stiles wilts. With a dramatic sigh he pushes off his skirt and underwear, flicking them away with his toes. Then his Daddy slides his hand up from his neck and scratches through his hair. "Thank you." Stiles tips his head up into his   
Daddy's nails for a second before leaning back and pulling off his shirt. Derek helps him get it off his arms, making a noise at the sticky mess on his back.

For a few seconds Stiles just enjoys being naked. It's probably the most childish thing he does, but Stiles likes to twist his hips and watch himself flop back and forth. Most of the joy comes from the fact that, as a Little, Stiles probably isn't going to get yelled at for doing it. From the corner of his eye he sees the look his Daddy gives him and stops. "S'funny." Stiles crosses his arms and pouts. Instead of amusing himself that way he wiggles his toes against the tile until Derek has stripped off his shirt and checked the water temperature again.

"Get in." Derek holds out his hand and helps ease Stiles down into the bath. They don't use adhesive ducks on the tub bottom. No matter how many times they rinse, there's always the faintest hint of mildew smell that lingers around the border of them. So Derek is always insistent that he help Stiles in and out of the tub. A bit much perhaps but Derek likes to be safe rather than sorry. "You want me to do your hair first or last?"

Stiles brings his knees up and rests his chin on them. He lets out a big put upon sigh and fixes a glare at his Daddy. "I can play after?" He waits for his Daddy's very serious nod, then hands over the shampoo. Before taking on Derek as his Daddy he'd always used VO5, cheap and easy. Now that he was living in a werewolf den he needed more expensive herbal stuff so no one's nose went haywire.

Getting his hair washed is nice though. Weird products aside, the whole thing is soothing. HIs Daddy is careful and thorough. He uses enough to lather up his hair but not enough that suds constantly slip down towards his eyes or down the back of his neck, tickling him. His Daddy always scratches his scalp and messages his head until he feels like a boneless little lump of skin. By the time the conditioner comes in Stiles is ready for bed. But it's not night time. It's still afternoon kind of and he wants to play in the bath.

True to the norm Stiles practically melts under Derek's hands. This is one of the things Derek likes most about being a Daddy. Washing Stiles gives him a sense of accomplishment. He gets to care for his Little, watch him relax. And it's intimate. It's natural for wolves to want skin to skin contact. But he'd never begrudge Stiles for liking layers. Giving him a bath gives him an excuse to be close to him and care for him. "Time to lean back cub." Derek gently tips his head back by the chin. Then puts his palm over Stiles' eyes and rinses his hair with a cup.

When all the suds are gone the water is murky but Stiles doesn't smell like spoiled milk anymore. "I wanna play."

"I know, I know." Derek shushes him before he can start pouting and pulls out Stiles' loofah. It's netted and the grip is a roaring green dinosaur. He lathers it up and rocks forward on his knees to start scrubbing down Stiles' back. It's easy to tip Stiles this way and that to scrub him down. The only problem comes when Derek tries to clean his feet. He's ticklish and always kicks out with a surprising amount of force. "All clean cub." Derek tosses the loofah at Stiles' chest, blatantly ignoring the squawk he receives for it.

"Play time now?" Stiles grins and braces his hands on the rim of the tub and starts wiggling his butt across the bottom. His skin squelches and the water sloshes.

"Don't even." Derek pulls a set of rubber ducks from under the sink and drops them into the water. The entire time he stares Stiles' down, completely stone faced. "Water stays in the tub."

Stiles scowls but stills, eyeing the sloshing water with a tiny ounce of worry. Wet bottoms made for stingy spankings. He'd learned that the hard way. Once the water is calm he starts playing with his ducks. They're all different sizes, almost like nesting dolls. They're all painted like the Avengers. Hulk is the biggest of course. The littlest is Spiderman, which Stiles' loves because he should have been in the movies.

Sometime after Black Widow saves Captain America from the bland oatmeal soap monster Derek comes in and yanks the plug up from the drain. Stiles tries in vain to stop the water from running out with the heel of his foot. He manages for only a second before his Daddy is hauling him up out of the water and toweling him off. The drying is so thorough Stiles almost feels like his skin is going to peel off. "M'dry Daddy. Dry."

"You're pruny. I have to get all the water out of your wrinkles." Derek chuckles to himself and gives Stiles one last run down with the towel. He leans forward and presses a kiss to the skin just above Stiles' knee. "Did you have a good day?"

"Malia let me run wild."

"Yeah?"

Stiles nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, I was a hoodlum today."

Derek snorts and nips at Stiles' leg before standing. "Come on hoodlum, let's get you dressed." It's good to be home.


	16. Beach Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory beach chapter.

There's a diner set up in the husk of an old tin trailer. Everyone calls it a diner but it's basically a food truck with four flat tires and a broken engine. Sometimes there's a bench outside for people to eat on but the diner doesn't own it. So every now and then teenagers grab it and drag it somewhere else so they can smoke. The menu is mostly hot sandwiches but every couple of months they make a few batches of conch fritters.

The conch is supplied by a mermaid. The word was she had a summer fling with the guy who ran the diner back when they were teenagers. Laura had spotted her this morning. Her hair was short now, with loose dirty green curls that frizzed in the back. But even with short hair it was impossible to mistake her patched leather jacket and the shimmering golden scales that ran down the back of her legs. A whiff of sea salt in the air made her sure.

Since the fritters were in short supply it was a first come first serve basis. Once Laura knew for sure she sent a text to Derek and made herself busy near the diner. By the time the oil was hot and popping Derek was jogging towards her, trying to look nonchalant. Laura grinned at him like a predator. Stiles couldn't stand fried food and hated the taste of shellfish. Derek loved sea food. But since taking Stiles on as his Little he ate it rarely.

But no man could deny that the conch fritters from the Metal Sheet Diner. There were no picnic tables today so Laura had snagged a shady spot under a tree. When Derek met with her she tossed her hair and pointed at the diner counter. "I found, you buy." Derek rolled his eyes but made his way to the counter to place his order. There was one couple nearby, teenagers popping gum. They were bouncing on the balls of their feet and not being subtle in the slightest about checking Derek out.

"Two orders of fritters please."

"Any sauce with that?"

"One yum yum, one tartar." Derek passes over a twenty nods to the tip jar for the extra. He stands to the side while his order cooks, pointedly not making eye contact with the teens when they pick up their order. Despite their best efforts it isn't really possible to eat a fritter sexily. He gives them points for trying though, it is funny.

"Your order sir."

Derek takes the two plastic baskets and eases down to the ground next to his sister. He passes her the basket with tartar and brings his own up to his face to sniff. "Make love to it why don't you?" Derek growls at his sister but doesn't comment. Maybe he's a little too invested in conch but he hasn't had sea food in over a year. He didn't care what anyone said about werewolf eating habits, he had cravings and favorites just like everyone else. The things he did for love.

Between the two of them the only sound was munching and happy little groans. Derek even scooped out a finger full of the yum yum sauce to eat when the fritters were gone. He'd have to brush his teeth at least twice before he kissed Stiles again. Completely worth it. Derek tipped his head back against the tree and rested a hand on his stomach. "You think I can get Stiles to eat cod?"

Laura snorts. "Maybe if you cover it in ketchup." Stiles wasn't really a picky eater. He just didn't like sea food. It didn't really come up much in their house. They ate red meat mostly, then pork, then chicken. At the start of summer they had a crab boil, which Stiles always disapproved of. While everyone else broke crab legs he'd sit with a plate of hot dogs.

"You think Stiles would like to meet a mermaid?"

"I think Stiles would lose his shit to meet a mermaid." Laura lazily smacks Derek on the thigh. "You're not trying to wrangle more conch out of Lorelie are you?"

Derek shakes his head and takes a deep breath. He's seriously considering ordering another order. "No, but Stiles loves the beach. He use to surf, hasn't had much chance lately."

"It's getting a little chilly isn't it?"

Derek snorts. "It's California."

"Northern--"

"I can get him a wet suit." Derek adjusts his legs and pushes the fritter basket farther away. "I think he's upset about Malia and Kira. He's scared she'll move away." Although Malia was a Pet she and Stiles got on well. "I think if the two of us have a day together it'll make him feel better."

"She doesn't usually hang around the beach Der. She shores up once every couple of months to get away."

"I was just asking." Derek braces his arm back against the tree and stands. "I'm still taking him to the beach." Derek had run to the diner. Laura had called him while he'd been on a run and he'd changed course to get to the fritters. Derek picked up his basket and Laura's and dumped them in the return bucket. "See you later?"

"Ugh, maybe not. Maybe I'll stay here all day and eat these guys out of business."

Derek rolls his eyes and starts off on a jog.

* * *

He stops by the house first, showers and changes. Then he loads Stiles up in the car. He doesn't tell him where they're going. Something he very nearly regrets as Stiles asks 'where are we going' for the thirtieth time. When the car rolls up at a sporting good store Stiles makes a questioning noise and actually waits for Derek to come around and let him out.

"What are we getting?"

Derek hums and leads Stiles into the store with hand on the small of his back. He ignores all of Stiles' little huffs and questions and guides him over to the summer section. Some of the stuff is starting to go on sale by now. The selection of wet suits is slim. But thankfully all of them are black and gray.

Stiles' whole body loosens and he turns to his Daddy with an awed expression. "Wet suits Daddy? We goin' surfing?"

"Yeah. Just you and me cub." Derek turns Stiles back to the rack and urges him to pick the one he wants. The wet suit he has now is a bit too snug. He'd gotten broader in the shoulders since the last time he'd gone surfing. Derek didn't have a wet suit at all. He knew they were suppose to be tight though and subtly tried to follow Stiles' lead in what to look for.

In the end Derek was almost regretful. Stiles had found a full body suit he liked, with a black body and dark gray sleves and legs. The only suit that didn't pull uncomfortably around Derek's shoulders had been a short version with legs that stopped just above the knee and sleeves that went to his elbows. The belly was white and Derek knew, just knew, Stiles wanted to make a penguin joke. Derek was very glad that the beach would be nearly empty around this time, especially if they went midday while school was still in.

"When can we go? I wanna go now. Today please. Please. Pleeeaaaassseeeee." Stiles was clutching the suit to his chest and leaning with his face as close to his Daddy's back as he could. He hadn't been surfing in forever. And he hadn't been to the beach with just his Daddy since they first started courting. "Daddy?"

Derek opens the car door and motions for Stiles to climb inside. "We'll go tomorrow Stiles. We'll have breakfast and drive out after okay."

"Just Stiles and Daddy?"

Derek runs his hand over Stiles' crown and presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose. "Just Stiles and Daddy." Derek takes the time to buckle Stiles in then rounds the car to get in himself. The car ride home isn't quiet. It rarely is when Stiles is involved. But it's nice. Stiles keeps himself occupied by singing softly along with his car CD. Derek joins in every few verses, mostly the chorus' that he knows by heart now. It always wrangles a smile out of Stiles.

It's amazing sometimes how quickly Stiles' mood can shift. Derek thinks it might have to do with his ADHD. His brain jumps track so quick sometimes mood can't be far behind to follow. Not that Stiles doesn't get into his ruts. Sometimes his ability to single-mindedly drive himself into the ground with an idea isn't a good thing. But the beach is working. Stiles had spent the rest of the day flitting happily through the house getting together things he'd need for the trip.

Derek stopped him short at waxing his board a third time though. It hadn't dimmed Stiles enthusiasm but it did mean Derek had to spend twenty minutes listening to why boards needed to be waxed and why certain types of wax were used. By bedtime Stiles had educated anyone who would listen, or anyone who would pretend to anyways, about the history of surfing. Thankfully Laura had caught up with everyone during their shopping trip and had warned everyone off of asking to come along.

And if Derek thought Stiles had been excited yesterday it was nothing compared to breakfast. Stiles was practically vibrating in his seat. It was a miracle that any of his food made it to his mouth at all. He was already in his wet suit despite Derek asking him to eat in his pajamas to prevent mess. When he'd slid into his seat Derek decided to just let it slide. 

Today was about making Stiles feel better. A stern look and a little leeway seemed a better option than a swat or time out. To his great relief Stiles behaved besides that.

When breakfast was over he even offered to help Talia and Gavin clean up. He was very gently turned down. Derek encouraged him to take their things out to the car instead. While Stiles was occupied Derek changed. To save just a small amount of dignity he pulled some pants on over his suit. By the look on Cora's face Stiles must have let slip what his suit actually looked like. But so long as Cora couldn't actually see it Derek felt a little better. Plausible deniability.  
"Daddy let's gooooooo!" Stiles was already in the backseat, his head sticking out the window.

"Be patient Stiles." Derek had called Scott the night before to borrow his surf board and he'd left it in the early morning on the porch. It was wedged between the porch swing and the wall. Stiles had already tucked his own up on the roof of the car. Derek decided that wasting any more time would probably send Stiles into a tantrum and hurried to strap Scott's board up to the roof along with Stiles'. Once that was done he hopped in and headed out.

Stiles' CD picked up where it left off the day before. They cycle through it one and a half times before they make it to the beach. Just as Derek suspected their spot is devoid of people. It could be because of the early hour but honestly Northern California is more known for its woods than its beaches. With any luck he and Stiles will get a peaceful afternoon all alone.

The second they hit the sand Stiles took off like a shot. He'd dropped his board where Derek was setting up the blanket and raced to the waves. Stiles let out a squeal of delight and shock when the cold water crashed over his ankles. "Be careful! And don't go out too far."

"'Kay Daddy!"

While Derek got everything ready Stiles ran and splashed through the shallow water. His giggles carried loud and clear on the light breeze. Derek took his time stripping down to his suit, another reason he hoped the beach stayed empty. He waited up by the shore until Stiles got bored of splashing by himself and came tearing back up to dry land.

"Daddy, Daddy, come swimmin' with me." Stiles reaches out and grabs both of his Daddy's hands and tugs. Derek goes, racing Stiles to the water. He lets Stiles win but his little boy's joy is cut short when Derek grabs him around the middle and hauls him out to deeper water. He screeches and flails, splashing cold water everywhere, soaking Derek's hair. The two of them wrestle, shoving and dunking each other until they're both soaked to the bone and breathing hard.

Taking in Stiles' flushed face and rapidly beating heart, Derek decides it's time for a break. He plucks Stiles from the water and carries him to their blanket, ignoring protests with every step. "You need a break Stiles. Just sit down for a minute and have some water."

"I had lots of water over there."

Derek lets his face do the talking. He feels like half of his communication with Stiles is deadpan looks and furrowed eyebrows. "Here." Derek passes him a water from the cooler and stares him down until he's finished half of it. "Do you want to surf now?"

Stiles rolls on the blanket and comes up on his knees next to his board. "You surf too Daddy?"

"I can try." Derek had never really surfed. Like most teens in costal areas he'd given it a shot but it had never been his thing. Stiles had a passion for it. His Father said that Stiles practically lived in the water just before Derek had started courting him.

"My strap please." Stiles thrust his leg up in the air and wiggled his toes. Derek took the velcro strap from his hand and fastened it around his ankle. Stiles pulled his foot away and stood, nearly tripping over the soft sand. The he picked up his board and rocked back and forth while Derek fastened his own ankle strap. Taking a deep breath, Derek mentally prepared himself. He was very likely to make a fool of himself out in the water. No matter how much it pained him to admit, Derek knew he behaved like a dog when unbalanced. In a shocking turn of events Stiles was very well balanced out in the water.

Derek had only seen videos of Stiles surfing. Scott had a camera mount on his board which he'd used to film Stiles the summer they were fifteen. Derek knew he'd give it a try to surf for Stiles sake but he'd be more than happy to sit on his board and watch Stiles do something he loved. "Let's go. Show Daddy how it's done."

Stiles took off with a shout, holding his board high above his head. Derek followed more slowly and watched carefully as Stiles entered the water and got onto his board. He made it look easy, getting onto his belly on his board and diving under a wave. Derek ventured out slowly, getting onto his borrowed board slowly. He wobbled a little bit and clutches the edges, trying to steady himself. Stiles was already getting up onto a wave. For once he was quiet, his face lax but fiercely concentrated. Derek felt a surge of pride as Stiles successfully rode his wave to it's end and pulled away.

"Your turn Daddy!"

Derek groaned but dropped to his belly and paddled out. He managed to raise to a stand in the water but barely made it a foot before he slipped under the water. For a second he could only hear the roar of the water. When he broke the surface he could hear Stiles laughing wildly from his own board. Derek spit water from his mouth and slicked his hair back before pulling himself back on his board. "It's not nice to laugh at Daddy you know."

"Is okay if it's funny." Stiles swung his legs back and forth in the water, grinning from ear to ear. "You can't surf Daddy?"

"Daddy can try."

The next few hours were tiring. Stiles was a ruthless teacher, barely letting Derek catch his breath before urging him to try again. But it was fun. Derek didn't think he'd ever heard Stiles laugh so much. And the videos hadn't done him justice. Stiles was a thing of grace in water. He looked older. It was odd, to see what Stiles might have been if he weren't a Little. Derek liked to think that they would have been together regardless. Hoped so anyways.

When the sun started to set and their bodies were pruned up and tired Derek called it a day. Stiles came willingly, exhausted but happy. They would drive through somewhere on the road home for dinner. Derek let Stiles sit on the blanket while he packed all their things away. When he came back down Stiles was laying on his back, almost asleep. Derek kneels on the blanket and starts peppering kisses across his face. Under him Stiles fidgets and giggles.

"Did you have a good day cub?"

"Best day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yum Yum sauce is the white sauce you get at hibachi places with seafood. It's actually pretty easy to make.


	17. Shopping Cart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long. But as always I'm happy to get all of your comments and Kudos.

Most people are Doms or Subs. Subs, like women, are more common but proportionately to the other categories it's pretty close. Switches are rare, not quite a one and three like you'd think. It's more like one in six or one in ten. The really rare classification is Neutral. For a little while Scott thought he might have been Neutral. He'd been worried about it, agonized over it while he laid up in hospital beds over his asthma. Turns out he just hadn't found someone he wanted to focus some sexual attention on.

For the longest time Scott was just lost when it came to how Stiles tripped all over himself to impress Lydia. It wasn't about the submissive instincts. Scott had always been able to see the appeal of pleasing your spouse. Just like he'd always seen the joy to be had to correct someone, guide them in life and help them. Then Allison came along. Allison had cute little dimples and gorgeous hair. Allison wore heart sweaters and could probably kill him with her bare hands. Scott had it bad.

He was even considering courting her. Actually courting because Allison's parents were hunters and would actually kill him with his bare hands if he was anything but a complete gentleman to her. Scott had a really frank discussion with his mom where she told him she'd suspected he was a Switch for a long time. She'd even given him a great idea for their first chaperoned date. He was going to make dinner, spicy pulled pork tacos. Maybe they were a little messy but they were his favorite and he wanted to share that with her.

To keep himself from over thinking or buying ridiculous extras Scott decided to bring Stiles. Little or not, Stiles had great taste. His mother had been a cook before she got to sick to keep up. She'd never owned her own restaurant but she could've gotten away with murder at the diner she'd worked for. So Scott picked up Stiles around one and even let him pick the radio station for the ride over.

Scott was under strict instruction to keep Stiles in line. He's been especially antsy lately. "Okay man, just hop in the cart."

"I can walk Scott. M'not an invalid."

Scott dropped his hoodie into the shopping cart and gave Stiles his best puppy dog eyes. "Please man, for me?"

Thankfully Stiles does decide to climb into the cart but he does it while maintaining eye contact, very angry eye contact. Scott decided not to dwell on it. As they went up and down the aisles Scott leaned heavily against the cart and kept up a steady stream of Allison's praises. By the time they'd rounded to the produce Scott had come up to his favorite subject, her dimples. "It's just...when she's smiles its like she's a Disney princess. But like a warrior princess or something. They're just like..."

In the 'safety' of the cart Stiles had gotten bored. Allison was amazing, a real sweetie pie. Stiles wasn't denying that. He wasn't even denying that some day she'd be a great Auntie to him. He just didn't want to hear about her dimples anymore. And Scott, bless his little love stuck heart, had parked the cart in reach of the grapes.

Stiles reached over the edge of the cart and plucked a few off to pop in his mouth. He didn't really consider it stealing. It was just a few grapes. They'd probably have fallen off anyway. He was sure. Really. Stiles sighed and took stock of the produce section. There was an old lady staring down some cantaloupes. Not interesting at all. At the other end of the section though, that was something he could focus on. There was a bearded man with a cart full of red meat.

He plucked another grape from the bin and rolled it in his fingers. It was a nice plump grape, very aerodynamic. Stiles lined up his shot, then at the last second reached back to smack Scott before throwing it. The grape struck the scruffy stranger right in the back of the head. And Scott saw it happen. Stiles grinned as the man turned. He heard the sharp intake of breath behind him and nearly turned to see if Scott was okay.

But he didn't need to. He knew exactly why Scott was having trouble breathing. Stiles had just thrown a grape at Derek Hale. Derek Hale, second child, first son, to Alpha Talia Hale and Mayor Gavin Hale. Stiles wasn't scared. He remembered Derek, knew he was a sweet guy. A Daddy too. Honestly Stiles felt a little cheated, he could have bounced the grape off his ass.

Scott clutched desperately at the handle of the cart and pulled it back just an inch. Derek was coming their way, his cart left by a stand of healthy cereal. "Uh Mr. Hale, Beta Hale, I'm sorry. He didn't mean anything by it." Derek didn't stop, didn't respond to Scott's panicked voice. He continued until he was standing almost against the front edge of the cart. "Really, he's sorry. Its just--"

Mr. Hale bends at the waist, bracing his hands on the edges of the cart. He stares Stiles down, face stern and unforgiving. He remains still until the grin falls from Stiles' face and he hears a quiet gulp. "I prefer red actually." Stiles stutters and rears back, whacking the back of his head on the basket. Satisfied Derek stands and offers a hand to Scott. "Derek is fine."

Scott is nearly panting with relief as he takes Derek's hand and shakes. "I really am sorry about him."

"Him is right here and he has a name." Stiles kicks pitifully in the cart and crosses his arms with a pout. Neither Derek or Scott pay him any attention.

"I know his father, it's fine really. So he's still as much of a Brat as ever?"

Scott laughs nervously and scratches the back of his head. He's fine with Stiles. He's seen his friend drift over the last few years from Brat to Little and it doesn't bother him. But he doesn't know Derek. "Y-yeah man. Brat if I ever saw one."

Derek cocks an eyebrow but doesn't comment on his suspicious behavior. "I figured." Derek turned and reached down into the cart to catch Stiles' ankle. "Behave yourself Stiles." He tugs on Stiles' ankle. "Or I'll call the Sheriff."

As Derek walks away Scott let's out a long breath. Then he reaches over to smack Stiles on the shoulder. "Not cool man." He takes his place back behind the cart and pushes him forcefully out of the produce section and away from Derek's direction. "Not cool at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It felt like there was a weird POV shift change. Sorry about that.


	18. Lasagna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been way too long. I wasn't sure where to go so I wrote a little bit of a lot of different drabbles. Hopefully I can churn out a few today.

It's been a while since Stiles had cooked. When he still lived with his dad he cooked for himself all the time. He'd enjoyed it as a casual hobby. It was something his mother had done with him until she got too incoherent to handle the kitchen. Most of the meals he'd made he ate alone. It got lonely and unsatisfying. Then Derek started courting him and suddenly Stiles didn't have to cook all for himself. He could share meals with Derek. Or more often than not, Derek would bring him stuff to eat.

By the time he moved in with the pack Stiles just stopped cooking. It was for his own good though. Having an actual Daddy let him sink farther into his headspace. Little's and stoves don't mix. Especially with someone as accident prone as Stiles. Add his general anxiety and clumsiness to the chaos of a hungry werewolf pack and he was almost grateful that he rarely helped in the kitchen. He still missed it though.

Which was why his Daddy was the best. It was Thursday, their alone day, and Daddy had picked up the stuff to make vegetarian lasagna. Stiles loved it. The Hales, not so much. But his Daddy was willing to let him use the stove and oven, under strict supervision, and he actually planned on eating some of it. Daddy didn't even mind when he licked the spoon and stuck it back in the sauce.

Derek was content to sit at the counter and watch Stiles work. The counter was covered in chopped vegetables and spices. Simmering away on the stove was the red sauce. Stiles liked to wait on the béchamel sauce, said it tasted better fresher. Never having made vegetarian anything, Derek takes his word for it. It seems that Stiles is just as gifted in the kitchen as on the water. It brings a great deal of pride to Derek to see his Little flourish, to have such amazing talents.

"Stir the sauce."

Stiles twists up his mouth and gives him the stink eye but he doesn't say anything. He knows by now that a werewolf nose can pick out the smell of something about to burn. "I can have wine with it?"

Derek snorts. "You can have grape juice." When Stiles' mouth drops open to protest Derek taps the counter with his knuckles. "If you're lucky." Stiles doesn't even like wine. Even now and then he'll make a token protest that as a teenager he should be allowed a little rebelion but Derek remains firm. As a werewolf he can't get drunk himself and honestly he's never seen the appeal. And he doesn't want to think about what alcohol would do to Stiles. He's only heard horror stories about alcohol and medication mixing.

"Beer isn't so bad Daddy. S'mostly water."

"Then you can have water."

Stiles snorts but doesn't ask again. When it's time to sauté the vegetables he falls into a little zone, concentrating entirely on the three pots and pans. By the time Stiles is assembling the lasagna his tongue is sticking out of the corner of his mouth and his hair is wilted with steam. Only once it's in the oven does Stiles break his quiet concentration and sigh like a put upon teenager. "I did lots of work Daddy. I deserve a reward."

"A reward huh?" Derek arches a brow and waits for Stiles to angle for a beer again. He's pleasantly surprised when Stiles skips around the counter and tries to squeeze himself into Derek's lap. Derek catches him and presses a kiss to his crown. "What kind of reward?"

Stiles digs his boney chin into his Daddy's chest and rolls his eyes up for a suggestive look. "Kisses." He bounces on his toes sending his upper body rocking into his Daddy. "Lots of kisses." Stiles tries to surge up and give him a kiss but ends up head-butting his nose.

Nearly three years of being with Stiles has him expecting this. The momentary sting is worth the embarrassed little flush on Stiles' face and the frantic little kisses his peppers over his face in apology. Derek remained passive, letting Stiles kiss and fret until his lips strayed too close to Derek's own. Derek tipped his head and caught Stiles in a soft kiss.

Stiles let out a pleased little noise and let himself get lost in the soft wet kisses his Daddy gave him. The kitchen is filled with the sounds of soft sucking and quiet huffs of breath, happy little noises that they both love. Stiles gets overly eager, like always, and tries to press forward more. Derek pushes back to keep them from toppling off of the stool. He grabs Stiles' hips and squeezes. He swallows the pleased sound his little makes and slips off the stool to be closer to him.

Before Stiles knows what's happening he's crowded against the counter. His daddy is rubbing his hands up and down his thighs, rucking up his skirt and sending shivers all down his back. Stiles' fingers scramble up and down his Daddy's back, desperate for purchase. He wanted more. He just wanted his Daddy to hoist him up on the counter and do something wild. They never got to have fun in public areas. Werewolf noses could suck so much.

Rather than asking Stiles thrust a hand down his Daddy's pants. Or tried to. It was more of a shove and wiggle because he hadn't thought to unbutton first. Instead of being impressed by Stiles' affirmative action, Derek snorts and takes a step back.

"No, no, Daddy come back."

Derek pulls Stiles' still wandering hand from his pants and kisses the back of it. "We eat in the kitchen Stiles."

"But--"

"The lasagna is going to burn."

Stiles' eyes go wide and he spins, nearly falling over. Derek sticks close behind him, hovering, while Stiles pulls the hot pan from the oven. "We can go upstairs while it cools?"

Derek rubs his nose across Stiles' jaw. "Of course." In front of him Stiles practically vibrates with excitement. "We have to wash our hands." Derek's snort doesn't drown out Stiles' unhappy groan.


	19. Change is Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay. I have no excuse except for laziness.

"So then she just," for a second she struggles to breathe she's laughing so hard, "she just smears her diaper across the counter. She stares him down the whole time, serious as can be." The Mommy, Shelia, dissolves into hysterical laughter. Everyone in the group is laughing along by now, even Derek. After the story she told he can't find fault with her Little. It sounded like something Stiles would do in the same situation. "I made that kid scrub the counter for an hour. And when he leaves he still asks if I'm gonna pay him!" Shelia throws her head back and laughs heartily.

Some of the caretakers from the day care get together once a month to swap ideas and unwind. This is the first time Derek's gone. He'd left Stiles home, under the watchful eyes of the pack. Sheila's story makes him grateful he has such eager to help family. He doesn't know what he'd do if a babysitter had acted that poorly to Stiles. He tries not to let it drag him down though. It was a funny story, no harm done. Everyone's laughing and the humans have a decent buzz going.

Derek can't get drunk and wine isn't a taste he enjoys. But he's got a good cup of tea and he's well into his third piece of coconut cake. When the laughter settles down a few heads turn his way. He hasn't shared a story yet, hasn't said much of anything really. "Oh uh..." Derek shifts in his seat and nervously rubs his thumb across the rim of his plate.

"I've heard some stories from my Little boy. There's no way Stiles is an angel." Greg is closest to him, leaning over the arm of the sofa to implore Derek into the conversation. His Little is older than him and a lazy little thing that spends most of his day care time napping and watching movies. Not a bad thing but Derek wonders what stories he can have about Stiles when the two of them never really interact.

Now that Greg's said something everyone is looking at him. By sheer stubborn force of will he keeps his face relaxed. "He likes mischief. He's clever." Derek tips his head to the side in thought, trying to find a good story. Stiles does so much. Most of it bleeds together, lost in the general chaos of the wolf pack. "He once called a deputy a dick at a community watch event. There was a news crew nearby." Shelia snorts into her wine glass and gestures for him to go on. Everyone is smiling at him, looking encouraging.

Derek licks his lips and figures out where to start. "His father is the Sheriff and most of the deputy's know him. But there's a new guy, Haigh. He obviously didn't know who Stiles was and he started talking to some of the volunteers. Telling him how Little's were meant to be at home or on child leashes." The Caretakers around him scoff. "Exactly. I was preoccupied with the Sheriff so I didn't hear. I was keeping an eye on him but..." Derek shrugs his shoulders. They understand. "I don't listen in until Stiles is nose to nose with Haigh. He does this thing where he licks his bottom lip, like he's getting ready to bite someone. So I hurry over just in time to hear Haigh say Stiles needs to adjust his Huggies and find his Daddy." Around him everyone groans. Some in anger, some in grudging amusement, because they know how it's all going to end.

"So Stiles leans back, flicks his badge and says 'Maybe Deputy Dick needs a diaper on his face to stop the'. And that's when I got there and put my hand over his mouth."

"Oh god, how'd that go?"

Derek chuffs and leans back more comfortably in his chair. "He licked me. Then the reporter starts in. She shoved the mic in Haigh's face and asked him why he was 'at odds with the darling son of the Sheriff'."

"Did you punish him?"

"Soap in the mouth." He got a few raised eyebrows. He knew nowadays most Caretakers preferred cod liver oil and the like, something foul tasting but ultimately good for you. But he'd grown up getting soap in the mouth and so had his human cousins. "I lather it up on a washcloth and actually wash out his mouth. Makes the taste last longer." Sheila gives him an approving nod and raises her wine glass.

Things don't drift into quiet awkwardness. Someone else chimes in with their own story involving soap. Apparently dish soap in a cake is a great way to give someone diarrhea. Derek warns her that mineral oil on pizza does the same and that, yes, Stiles and Scott had tried it once. After that their group breaks up a little more so there's side conversations going everywhere. Derek ends up standing by Sheila when he puts away his plate.

"Are you ever planning on collaring him?"

He wants to. He's meant to for a while. Technically he and Stiles aren't courting anymore, not since he'd moved in. A normal courtship ends with collaring, there'd be no unsupervised visits until that point. But Skylar had felt that Stiles was in good hands. Honestly the only reason Derek had waited so long was because he was afraid. What if he wasn't good enough? What if Stiles got bored of him or the pack? "I plan to. I want to. More than anything."

"Do you have something in mind at least?"

Derek shifts his weight and looks down at his crossed arms. "I can't decide. I was going to go with a beaded necklace, a lot of colorful pony beads. Simple you know. But Stiles is a Spark with an affinity for wood. But I don't know if that'd be comfortable for him. Or...playful enough, I guess."

Sheila hums and finally sets aside her wine glass. "I got Devon a paracord bracelet. And I know Trevor gave Susan a charm bracelet. They add a charm every Christmas and birthday."

Derek nods and twists up his mouth in thought. "I was thinking about a wooden pendant. But Stiles loves beads."

"So he'll probably get you beads. Get him what feels right." Sheila smacks him in the chest and wanders back to her spot on the sofa. The rest of the night Derek's mind is only half present. He really does need to get a move on collaring Stiles. Who knows what will happen if he keeps waiting. Stiles might start thinking Derek isn't serious.

* * *

Derek decided on wood. Instead of outright buying something though he went deep into the preserve and cut a small piece of branch from an old growth tree. He takes the small chunk to his mother and asks her to make it into something Stiles will like. It's easier than trying to figure it out himself. After he'd presented his own collar to Stiles, Stiles would make one for him. And he'd wear it with pride, even if it was a pink pony bead choker necklace.

Presenting his collar wouldn't be like an engagement. It could be. It was something more and more people did, people who dated. But in cases where the couple has courted everyone knows when the collar is coming because it marks the end of the courtship. It was something Stiles appreciated. He wasn't really a surprise type of person.

That being said, Derek wasn't sure how to bring up the collaring. He and Stiles were content with the way things were. Derek wanted to collar Stiles. He wanted to go to city hall and register their union. He wanted to sign Stiles up for activities and functions officially under the name Hale. But so far Stiles hadn't mentioned wanting any of that. Not that he'd mentioned he hadn't wanted it either. They were in a rut maybe. Derek was honestly afraid of change. Of what a collaring could mean for them. It was unlikely that after three years of courting Stiles would suddenly be bored of him, but it could happen. Maybe seeing the necklace would be a wake up call and Stiles would feel trapped.

He felt like he needed to ease Stiles into the idea. Derek sighed and flopped back onto his bed. He threw his arm over his eyes and tried to focus on the sounds of the house. There was a low hum of activity. Stiles was outside somewhere, running wild with Malia and Colt probably. He was over thinking things. He had to be. Stiles loved him. Everything was going to work out. Derek huffed and rolled onto his side, burring his face deep in Stiles' pillow.

"Is this a werewolf thing or a teenage boy thing."

Derek clicked his tongue and tipped his face to the side. "I'm not a teenager anymore."

"Could still be a teenage problem." Derek's father Gavin was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, with a smirk on his face. In regards to Stiles he'd been a little hands off. 

He did love him and he couldn't wait for the collaring ceremony, but as the Mayor he had to tread lightly. Stiles was the son of Sheriff, the best man for the job in Gavin's opinion.   
If things went south between his son and Stiles he still wanted to remain civil with Skylar. He crossed into the room and took a seat in Derek's desk chair.

"I want to collar him."

Gavin nodded and folded his hands in his lap. "That is the way these things end."

"It's just..."

Gavin rolled a little closer to the bed. "Enjoying the engagement too much?"

Derek punched at his pillow lightly. He didn't want to meet his Dad's gaze. He and his mother had dated, not courted. And they skipped engagement altogether. They drove down to Mexico together for an extended weekend and ended up getting married in an ancient adobo church. Mom was barefoot in every photo. And his Dad had a straw hat on in most of them. They hadn't saw the point in waiting for a good thing and took a chance.

"I don't want things to change."

"Change isn't always bad." Gavin gestured to the room. "This room use to belong to your grandmother. There was floral wallpaper and everything smelt like cumin." He tipped himself to the side, trying to catch his son's eye. "Werewolves use to only marry into other packs. No outside humans allowed. There was a time when only humans could be Deputy's here and a time when only supernatural creatures could."

"I'm more worried about things relevant to me." Derek met his Dad's gaze and gave him a blank look. His father wasn't impressed at all. He was nodding along with a patronizing look.  
"Stiles use to fight your rules. He valued his independence too much, so much that he ran himself into the ground. But he gave himself over to you. And to your judgment as his Dom, as his Daddy." Gavin sat back properly in his chair and looked around the room. There wasn't a single inch of it that didn't show Stiles' presence in some way. "And you? You use to be such a grumpy boy. So self conscious and doubtful. But the way you take charge with him? The way you care for him like it's second nature? That's change Derek. Neither of you are now the way you were when you met. But you're still happy."

Gavin patted his son's ankle and stood. The collaring was a long time coming. Courting rarely took this long. He and Talia had expected the two of them to collar as soon as Stiles had moved in. But they'd never pressed. Not everyone wanted a whirlwind romance. There was something to be said for taking things slow. Less surprises for one. Gavin turned and left his son to his thoughts.

Derek rolled off the bed and made his way to the window. He couldn't see Stiles in the backyard but if he opened the window he would smell him. He knew collaring wouldn't kill their relationship. He and Stiles were stable. They loved each other. They had a stable home life and a healthy support system. They were courteous of each other's limits and kinks. And as a werewolf Derek could offer Stiles the kind of comfort he needed on his most anxious days. It was horrible how many Littles couldn't be carried around by their caretakers.

It was easy for him to see the progress he'd made with Stiles. There were no more dark circles under his eyes or sunken cheeks. He was healthy and happy. Flourishing. He'd come a long way himself. Taking part in the caregiver dinner had been a big step for him. After the way his caretaker friends had treated his mild tastes in college he'd been put off. But the longer he stayed with Stiles the more he felt like he fit in.

"I'll ask him tonight."

* * * 

The complete lack of adhesive stickers in the tub means Derek spends a half hour a night either in the shower with Stiles, or sitting on the toilet on fall watch. Usually Derek would bring a book with him or his tablet so he could work. Tonight he just stared at his knees. He was half listening to Stiles talk about his adventure in the woods and half trying to gather the courage to propose the collaring.

"Then Colt went like 'BLAM' and the squirrels just scattered. Malia was so mad." Stiles starts laughing and scrubbing at his hair. "You've caught squirrels right Daddy? 'Cause Colt says he hasn't seen you do it but he's only--"

"I caught a few when I was little. I preferred rabbit though." Derek rubs and scratches at his beard and watches Stiles shimmy under the water. He should ask when they're ready for bed. That way Stiles can sleep on it.

"Daddy I think I got a bite on my butt." Stiles spins, the balls of his feet squelching on the slick porcelain. He shoves his butt in Derek's direction. The wet shower curtain sticks to his skin and pulls out of the tub, splashing water all over the floor.

"Stiles!"

In response Stiles wiggles his butt, rattling the shower curtain back and forth. Derek lunges forward, bent in half at the waist. He smacks aside the curtain and catches Stiles just as he's about to pitch forward and smash his face. Derek tugs Stiles back with a bit too much force. It sends Stiles sprawling back with a wet plop onto his Daddy's lap. He starts giggling madly, not concerned at all about his close call.

"Daddy!" Stiles surges up and bops his nose against the hollow of his Daddy's throat.

"Let me collar you."

Stiles rears back and stares. Derek looks shocked, like he can't believe the thing his treacherous mouth has done. The house is quiet. It occurs to him that he'd almost shouted his request. Derek suddenly feels hot. It's rushing over his body like a tidal wave and with it the sound of his own blood rushes in his ears. Because Stiles isn't saying anything. He's just staring at him. He's just lying there, wet and naked and staring.

"Okay." Stiles' breath is shuddering, his throat clogged. He sounded like he was on the verge of crying. "Daddy..." Stiles wriggles, kicking his feet out to get leverage, and tucks himself into Derek's chest. His wet skin catches and rubs uncomfortably on his Daddy's sweater but manages to tuck his face into a patch of bare neck. "I want your collar Daddy." Stiles curls his fingers in his Daddy's sweater and lets himself cry. He's just so happy. He never thought this would happen.

He thought they would court forever. He worried that Derek would get tired of his problems and his hyperactivity. He worried that he was just a placeholder until someone prettier came along. Or a werewolf. But Daddy wanted him. Wanted to collar him and make him a real member of the pack forever.

The fast paced huffs of breath against his neck shook him from his stupor and brought him back down to earth. He scooped Stiles up, cradling him to his chest, and spun them. He laughed. It bubbled out of his chest and filled the bathroom. Stiles started up along with him. Before long they were gasping for breath and nuzzling each other on a pile of Stiles' dirty laundry.

Derek couldn't wait to tell his friends the news.


	20. Be Careful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't about the collaring and actually I think I'm going to do some of their early courting days before I write about the collaring. I just want to make sure I get it right. So pretty soon you're going to get some awkward first date type stuff.

There was nothing quite like running through the woods. Maybe it was because his Daddy was a werewolf. Maybe it was the feeling of his skirt swishing across his thighs. But whatever it was, being chased by Malia was an amazing thing. A giddy thrill shot through him, amping him up, making him feel like a giggling ball of butterflies. Stiles leaps over a fallen log and lands with a huff. Under his dirty sneakers twigs and leaves crunch like a gunshot. He knows there's no hiding from Malia, but he'd just lost the only edge he had.

Stiles tensed his legs and sprung up, taking off in a lope. He wasn't really suppose to be out this far. This part of the preserve was were the family went running during the full moon. It was wilder out here, too far from the house to be safe. But they were having fun. And Malia was with him. If something happened she could just howl. She was good at that.

Up ahead he could see a thick gnarled tree that still had a few stubborn green leaves clinging to it's branches. He stuck out his tongue in concentration and started towards it. Behind him he could just barely hear Malia catching up. He let out a small grunt of frustration and urged his legs to move faster. He sprung up, trying to jump and hop to a smaller lead. For a split second he thought he had it. His sneaker skidded on a pile of dry leaves and felt like he had the edge. But his foot didn't stop.

He heard a loud crack, louder than any twig or branch he'd stomped on all day. Stiles kept his eyes locked on the tree in front of him, too scared to look down as his leg sank. A burning fire of pain raked across the bare skin of his calf and thigh until he was wedged. His right leg was dangling loosely in the hole while his other folded uncomfortably against his stomach and the cold ground.

He wanted to yell, wanted to cry and screech, and beg for Malia to come help. But all he could do was desperately gasp in short bursts of air. His leg is burning with pain and he can feel blood rolling down his chilled skin. Stiles works himself up, his chest rapidly fluttering as he tries to draw in a breath. Then Malia is crashing through the leaves, skidding in a crouch until he's next to him.

"Stiles! Stiles, don't move."

"C...can't." Stiles' fingers scramble against the ground, against the bunched up fabric of his skirt, his pinched leg. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.

"Stiles!" Malia grabbed him around the middle and tried to ease him up. Immediately Stiles started to whimper and twist. His leg had crashed through something wooden. The splinters and edges were digging into his skin. "Okay, okay." Malia eased him back down but tipped him back just so until his weight was resting against her. She holds him and starts muttering into his ear. Telling him to breathe, telling him everything is going to be okay. She tries to shush him and rock him like Derek does when he panics but it's hard to do without hurting his leg.

Malia can smell blood and rotten wood. It's not a lot. It probably stings more than anything. She puts her hand over his chest and tries to get him to calm his breathing. "Come on Stiles. Just...just slow down okay." She tucked her face close to his ear and started breathing in and out slowly until Stiles began to match her. "Okay. That's a good boy." Malia scrunched up her nose and settled more carefully behind him. He was still crying, letting out little hitched breaths and hiccups. "I'm gonna howl okay." She tightened her hold on his chest. "Cover your ears."

She waited for him to bring his dirty fingers over his ears before she tipped her face to the sky and howled. Stiles whimpered in front of her, tucking his chin down to his chest. The loud howling in his ear was a comfort. Within seconds he could hear the answering howls from his Daddy and Alpha. Laura and Cora joined in and soon it seemed like all of the preserve was echoing with their howls.

Malia kept it up, howl after howl, until Stiles heard the sounds of skidding feet and upended earth. He reached out blinding, making grabby hands at the nearest new body. "Oh cub." Stiles lets out a pitiful little whine and reaches for his Daddy. Derek kneels in the dirt, careful to avoid the damp, rotted wood. With Malia's help he manages to tuck Stiles into his chest without aggravating his leg. The leg above ground is still coiled and tense. Derek grabs at his thigh, kneading at it until Stiles loosens up and lets his leg go slack and straight against the cold dirt.

While Derek worked his hands over Stiles' hair and back Talia circled around to assess the situation. When Beacon Hills first got started it was a battle ground. Factions on both sides dug out fox holes and shelters all around the preserve. Over the years most of them had collapsed and naturally filled in with earth. But some survived. "Move aside Malia." Talia guided her away with hands on her shoulders, eyes trained on Stiles and the rotted wood.

She crouched down and lifted the hem of Stiles' skirt to get a better look. His skin was red and agitated. Thankfully the only thing stuck in his skin were splinters. He could have just as easily broken off a large piece. "Alright sweetie, I need you to stay very still."

"O...okay." Stiles tucked his face as far as he could into the crook of his Daddy's neck. He felt his Daddy hold him more firmly, lifting his weight just so off of the wood. When he feels the barest brush of Alpha's fingers against the back of his thigh, his whole body goes tense. There's a creaking groan and a tiny snap as Talia starts breaking away the rotted wood around his leg. She's slow moving, gently easing the wood out from around his skin and down into the hole below.

When Talia had removed enough of the wood to free Stiles leg Derek slid his hands to Stiles' armpits and started to hoist him up. Talia grabbed him around his middle, easing the pressure and lifted until she and Derek could lie Stiles on his side, away from the wood. Talia leaves Derek to it, stepping away from Stiles' with a gentle pat to the head. She crouches over the rim of the hole.

It just smells like rotted wood and stale air. "Peter, make a call for soil." She'll have the hole filled in by the end of the week. Today she can rip out the rest of the wood and check for any other nearby hiding spots. Occasionally there's a stray grenade or trip wire left behind. It pains her to think that there's still danger out here in her own preserve from some long ago.

In the dirt Stiles was crying again. The scratches down his legs still burned and now his leg was alight with the feeling of pins and needles. It felt like his whole leg was on fire. He sniffled and hiccupped into his hands while his Daddy poked and prodded at him. Stiles whimpered in relief when someone started drawing the pain away. "Daddy...Daddy wanna go home." He reaches out and curls his fingers in his Daddy's shirt, tugging until he's scooped up like a toddler.

Derek takes a moment to just hold him tight. He tucks Stiles' head under his chin and rubs through his hair, cooing and shushing him. He's careful to keep his hand away from the scratches. "It's okay. You're okay." He holds Stiles' a little tighter under the curve of his butt and starts back toward the house. A few yards ahead of them Peter is leading Malia with a hand to the back of her neck. Even from here he can sense her distress and worry.

When she glances back at him her gives her a small smile. They really shouldn't have been out this far but accidents happen. Stiles will be okay and it's good that they've found the hole. Maisy could have fallen in there and broken her neck. "You want some ice cream?"

"No."

Derek ducks his head and starts rubbing his beard across the skin of Stiles' face. "No? No? Is this Stiles?" He starts sniffing loudly at Stiles' neck hair, scraping his skin as much as possible with his stubble. In his arms Stiles starts to giggle and squirm.

"Daddy stop." Stiles tosses his head back and kicks his feet. "Daaaadddddyyyy!"

"Daddy? I'm Stiles' Daddy. Who is this?"

Stiles unwraps his hands from around Derek's back and grabs his face, squishing his cheeks. "I'm Stiles Daddy. Stiles!"

"You sure? Because my Stiles like ice cream."

"I want a popsicle Daddy. Stiles likes popsicles too."

Derek shakes his face free and kisses Stiles on the nose. "Okay, okay. I guess you're Stiles." When they get to the house Peter already has a popsicle unwrapped and ready. Stiles takes it gratefully and sucks on it while Derek lays him out and starts cleaning the scratches. He's careful to leech away the pain while he works. He pries free the few splinters that have clung and scrubs down the cuts. Stiles is done with his popsicle by the time Derek is drying him off. "Almost done cub." Derek pulls out a few squares of gauze and patches up the deeper gouges.

"All done Daddy?"

"Yeah, all done." Derek grabs Stiles' hand and pulls him off the bed. Then he's easing down his skirt and helping him out of his dirty shirt. "What kind of pajamas?"

"No jammies Daddy. Underwear."

"If you're not ready for bed you need to wear pants."

"Ughhhhhh." Stiles flopped back onto the bed and rolled around a few times. "Daddy's pants. Give me your pants." Stiles arched his foot out and tried to poke Derek in the leg.  
Derek catches his ankle and tugs him down to the bottom of the bed. "Okay, but you keep them on Stiles." He pulls a pair of his own flannel pajama pants out for Stiles to wear and a loose threadbare shirt. He helps Stiles into them, making sure to hold the elastic away from the scratches on his leg. "Want to watch a movie?"

"Up here?"

"Yeah, on my laptop."

Stiles bounds towards the stack of DVD's on the desk and starts talking to the cases, trying to make a decision. Derek can see that he's favoring his left leg. He'll need to pick up some Tylenol. And they probably should take Stiles to the hospital. He could have an infection. But he's okay right now. He smells fine and he's not crying. They can go after their movie.

"Star Wars Daddy!" Or maybe they can go now. Just to be sure.


	21. Second Date

Being the son of the Mayor and The Alpha afforded Derek a sense of stability. It opened doors for him. It meant he'd go through life with relative ease. Sheriff Stilinski was not impressed at all by his position in life. In part because he'd been there while Derek grew up but mostly because Derek was now courting his only child. His underage Brat/Little child. Derek considered himself lucky that the Sheriff hadn't shot him just for the suggestion.

Their first chaperoned date had been to a movie. The dollar theater on Havens played movies already out on DVD but they sold food too, not just snacks. He'd taken Stiles to see Edward Norton's Hulk. The Sheriff sat right behind them the whole time, making not so subtle noises every time Derek so much as breathed across the barrier of their shared armrest. Stiles had been just as unimpressed as him but refrained from saying anything.

Tonight was their second date and even though Laura had volunteered Derek turned her down. He wanted to make a good impression on the Sheriff, even if it meant his pace with Stiles would be less than glacial. So he begged his mother to chaperone their date. She was taking them to dinner, Stiles' choice, so nothing fancy. Derek wouldn't mind even if they crammed elbow to elbow in the child's room at McDonalds.

"Try not to wear out the rug dear, I'd like it to last 'til Christmas."

Derek tossed his head back with a sigh but stopped his pacing. His mother was leaning against the archway to the kitchen. "I just want it to go well."

"Then stop worrying yourself into the ground. Stiles has always had a little crush on you."

"He had a crush on Lydia Martin."

"I dare you to find a boy who hasn't had a crush on Lydia Martin." Talia crossed into the living room and put her hands on her son's shoulders. "You shouldn't worry."

"I'm going to mess something up."

Talia huffed. "That's why I'm there. If you look like you're going to crash and burn I'll step in." She pats him on the cheek. "Do you know where he wants to eat?"

"He said he'd pick when he got here."

* * *

Stiles wanted pizza. The oil covered traditional Italian kind that didn't have nearly enough sauce on it for Derek's liking. But Talia let the two of them share a side of the booth and with the giant metal pizza stand between them it almost felt like a regular date. On instinct Derek reaches out with a damp napkin to clean sauce from Stiles' cheek. He hesitates for a moment. Paige always hated when he did that. But Stiles stops chewing and tips his head toward Derek's hand.

It's amazing, how a simple little thing like this can make Derek feel content. Stiles smiles at him, cheeks full to bursting with pizza, and Derek knows he's gone over this boy. "Careful, don't choke." Stiles snorts but chews with a little more care. When he swallows he scoots in the booth and bumps sides with him.

"What did you go to school for?"

"History." Derek expects him to say it's boring. Most people do. Even his own mother had been a little skeptical about his choice.

"Like dead cultures and stuff? World history or American? Are you trying for a Doctorate or--" The questions just keep coming like water from a burst dam. At first Derek is overwhelmed. He's not sure where to start, or if Stiles actually wants answers.

"World history with an emphasis on Latin cultures."

"Roman Latin or Hispanic Latin."

"Hispanic. Our family started in Mexico. That's where the Hale pack originated. Before that I'm not sure, we had a different name. We might have come from somewhere else."  
Stiles hums and drags his crust through the oil on his plate. "I'm Polish mostly but we've got roots in the Ukraine too. Slavic languages are amazing. They sound so harsh but once you get the hang of it they can sound really beautiful."

From the other side of the booth Talia watches them with a smile. Her son has always been a bit awkward. A dreamer but his head had always been stuck in the past rather than in the clouds. Stiles is a good match for him. He's stubborn enough to challenge Derek. Smart enough to do it intellectually. But he's soft. He likes to be taken care of. And he needs it. She can see clear as day how much he struggles. She's tempted to tug him to her own chest and coddle him. She would if she were more willing to put up with her son's pouting.

"Boys, it's getting late." She raises her eyebrows at Derek. She thinks given the chance they would have chatted well into the night. Derek looks like he wants to protest but it's Stiles who speaks up.

"Alpha Hale, can't we stay a little longer?"

"Your father said to be home by nine."

"Yeah but nine at night or?"

Before Talia can say anything Derek cups his hand around the back of Stiles' neck. "You know what he meant Stiles."

"But I--"

Derek squeezes and turns at the waist to look him in the eye. "I like spending time with you. And if I want to keep doing that I have to follow your father's rules." Under his hands Stiles seems to deflate. For a brief second he turns to rub his nose against Derek's wrist.

"We can have another date though?"

"Only if I get you home on time."

In the next second Stiles is scrambling out of the booth, nearly knocking down the pizza stand. "Well come on. There could be traffic. There could be a five car pile up on my block and we wouldn't even know it until it's too late. Let's go."

Talia can't help herself. She looks between Derek's bewildered face and Stiles' wild concern and starts laughing. She laughs until she's out of breath and waves away their concern. "It's alright Stiles." She chuckles a few more times and waves over a waitress to get a to go box. She'll have him home on time. If they're lucky she'll drop them off a block away and let them have a little private moment. She knows for a fact that Skylar use to drop Claudia off a half hour early, then sneak into her room at midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally meant to add a little more about Skylar and Claudia but it didn't fit in right. So maybe later.


	22. About Claudia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some Mama Stilinski feels.

The only reason Skylar could score a date with Claudia was because he spoke Polish. Her parents weren't ridiculously strict but they wanted her to settle with a nice Slavic boy, someone who would respect her culture. The only Polish tradition Skylar's family observed was making Paczki's on Fat Tuesday. But Claudia's parents didn't know that. They just knew he spoke Polish and wanted to be a deputy. So he was in.

Claudia was like fire. She was wild and aggressive and had such a burning passion for everything she did. Skylar wasn't sure if he could keep up. He knew he couldn't tame her. She was a sub but she wasn't submissive. He only had power over her for as long as she wanted to give it. Their first few dates were protests, back to back non-violent demonstrations. It was the 80's. The protests now were nothing like the things Skylar's parents had gone to. No fire hoses, no flowers in gun barrels. But he did get a face full of pepper spray.

Claudia raised hell about it, cursing and raging while washing his eyes out with milk. As soon as he could see again he'd stood up tall right next to her and started chanting with everyone else. The rally was about Supernatural's and humans working together. A group of protesters from Oregon were tearing through California claiming that Supernatural's needed to mark themselves. It was ridiculous and racist. Skylar didn't care if he ended up on the force with three wolves and a werebadger if they were good at their jobs.

At first he'd thought joining the protests would damage his chances at getting into the academy. Then Claudia came into his life like a wildfire and told him that taking an interest in politics was a basic human necessity. You couldn't live in ignorance. When he dropped her off that night, under the watchful eye of her father, he pressed a note into her hand promising to be back later. She waited up for him, sitting in her window. She'd laughed at him the whole time he struggled up the side of her house.

They didn't have sex that night. They barely even kissed. They sat up for hours whispering back and forth about the protests and college. When he snuck out he promised her he'd name their kids whatever she wanted. For the next month she asked him increasingly ridiculous names and he'd said yes to all of them with a straight face.

The kids in his class thought he was crazy. Who'd go for a sub that outspoken? He ignored them all and basked in the glory that was Claudia Bujak. When they graduated Claudia gave a speech entirely in Polish and while the faculty and staff nodded along in awe Skylar tried not to laugh. She didn't say a word about school or the human condition. She spent her allotted time telling Skylar she loved him and her parents that she was madly in love and ready to be collared.

Predictably Claudia spent her first week of her last school summer grounded. On the last night of her grounding Skylar met the end of his rope. He'd snuck into her room at ten-thirty with a bag of burgers. By eleven-fifteen he was running half naked down the street while Mr. Bujak chased him with a bat. He remembers Talia Hale howling with laughter on the street corner. There's a picture of the moment somewhere.

When the two of them collared they traded vows in Polish to appease Mr. and Mrs. Bujak. But afterwards they blasted Bon Jovi and Journey and just generally acted like teenage idiots at a party. They got to spend two beautiful months together as free teenagers before Skylar joined the Academy and Claudia picked up cooking classes at the community college.

She could have done more. She could have been a politician or a lawyer. But she wanted to have a job she'd love, one she wouldn't take home with her as a dark cloud. So she'd cook all day and go to rallies on the side.

When she got sick Skylar could see the fire in her dimming. He watched her go like a candle at the end of it's wick. She just puttered out. By the end she hadn't even been herself. She'd forgotten her name and his. Stiles was just a loud mass of noise that filtered in and out of her vision sometimes. Claudia didn't die in that bed. There wasn't anything left of her to die.

Sometimes Skylar liked to think Claudia's spirit had just left, abandoned her body before things got bad. That she was still out there somewhere in spirit, on the wind. Some days he would look to the sky and tell her she was a good girl, when he felt a nice breeze, or smelt her favorite flowers. Sometimes he'd take the time to make his bed the way she did. Or make Kisiel because it was her favorite.

He was never the type of man who needed a sub to feel like a dom. He was never the type of man who thought you could never move on. But he couldn't. His heart belonged to Claudia. It always would.


	23. Our First Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments and Kudos. It keeps me motivated and I appreciate it so much. <3

Christmas wasn't a religious thing in the Stilinski household. Not that it was a grand commercial affair either. Stiles just liked that it was the one day of the year his Dad was scheduled to be off no matter what. Crime never took a day off but by God Skylar Stilinski got to at least once a year. So the department unanimously decided he'd get Christmas because he worked every other holiday without fail.

This year was a little different though. Instead of it being just him and his Dad, they were going over to the Hale house. The invitation graciously included Scott and Melissa, because by noon they always migrated over to the Stilinski's, but they'd declined. The two of them were going to binge on authentic Mexican and watch bad soap operas. So when Stiles finally rolled out of bed and staggered into the kitchen his Dad was already up and dressed. Stiles couldn't remember a Christmas where his father wore anything other than hole riddle sweats and a band shirt.

"Wear something warm and we'll take the jeep."

The jeep is amazing. It's a gentle giant and Stiles always wanted it to be his some day. Unfortunately, until his headspace settles out and he can prove he's not a danger, he can't drive. Usually he sits passenger side while Scott drives him around. Stiles races up the stairs and tears through his closet for something warm but nice.

He comes back downstairs in a flannel and two hoddies. It's good enough for his Dad, who even lets him go back and forth carrying the presents into the car. They didn't get a personalized gift for the whole pack. There were just too many people. But he did pick out something for Derek, Alpha Hale, and Mayor Gavin. For everyone else they have a big tin of popcorn, the kind every store sells stale no matter how late or early you buy it.

By the time his Dad is getting into the driver's seat with a thermos of black coffee Stiles is nearly vibrating with anticipation. "Do you think they do food first or presents? Because they have kids there and kids don't like to wait. Kids shouldn't have to wait for presents. They waited all month. It's torture is what it is. You don't think they'll--"

"Stiles."

Stiles cuts himself off and stares at his Dad. "Yeah?"

"We'll see when we get there son."

"Oh." Stiles slumps in his seat, leaning his arm out the window. The cold wind whipping past numbs his hand quickly. He'd picked Derek's present himself. So far Derek had been everything he'd wanted in a Daddy. He was sweet, attentive to his moods, and smart. So smart. Intelligence was important, very important. Just because he acted like a little kid, it didn't mean he was an actual little kid. He was smart. He needed someone who could stimulate him intellectually.

For him, that decided the gift. Derek wasn't the type of Dom who needed a fancy watch or a grand gesture of submissiveness to feel important. He wanted something practical, something from the heart. Because he was a giant softy and his beard wasn't fooling anyone. He just hoped no one in his family would give him a hard time over it. When you courted a werewolf you weren't just courting your Dom, you were courting their whole pack.

"What if they don't like me."

Skylar lets the jeep idle. They're on a suburban street. It's Christmas. "They already love you Stiles. They've known you your whole life."

"Yeah as the Sheriff's annoying kid, not as a potential pack member." Stiles huffs and pulls back into the car completely and slumps towards his dad. It's one thing to enjoy a kid in passing, it's another to actually want them around all the time. Stiles wasn't a stranger to the feeling. Most people thought he was hilarious enough in small doses but no one wanted to invite him anywhere. No one but Scott and Derek anyways.

"They love you. That isn't going to change if you spend more time with them. As far as they're concerned, you're already pack."

Stiles snaps straight up. "Already?" He searches his father's face and sees only honesty.

"You're stuck with them kiddo, even if you break up with Derek." Skylar reaches over and rubs his hand through his son's short hair. They have sit a few more seconds in silence. Stiles lets himself enjoy knowing that he's part of a pack.

They make it to the Hale house by eight. For the first time since he's been there, there aren't children running through the lawn. The house looks almost quiet. But Stiles knows, can almost feel, that they're gathered towards the front of the house. All of them can hear his jeep coming from at least a mile away.

Stiles lets his Dad get Alpha Talia's gift, and the Mayors. He slips his gift to Derek into his jacket and hugs the tin popcorn to his chest. When they get to the door it flings open before he can knock. Laura is there, wearing a fluffy green bathrobe, with a baby on her hip. Bher is wiggling everywhere and there's a handful of Laura's hair wedged in his little mouth. "Come on in. Derek is lurking by the tree."

Stiles wants to flat out run, he hasn't seen Derek in three days, but settles for skipping instead. Someone takes the popcorn from him and the second his hands are free he's bounding over to Derek. He's not so much lurking by the tree but instead standing guard. Colt and Maisy both look like they're planning an attack. The massive pile of presents in mismatched paper are protected only by the stern furrow of Derek's eyebrows. It's pretty impressive.

Stiles pulls his gift out of his hoodie and tosses it over Maisy's head to land in the pile. Then he ducks around them both and throws himself at Derek. He tucks his nose into his chest. This morning he smells like maple syrup and apples. They've probably already eaten breakfast. The Hales seemed like butt crack of dawn people.

Derek wraps him up in a warm hug and rocks them from side to side. "Merry Christmas Stiles."

"Merry Christmas." Stiles turns his face and presses a kiss to Derek's jaw, quick as a flash. Then he darts away to sit between Malia and Cora. The two of them both snort at the look on Derek's face, somewhere between smug and surprised.

"Alright, let's open presents. If we wait much longer the kids might revolt." Talia crosses through the living room, guiding Derek away from the tree. She looks no less imposing in bunny slippers than in anything else.

It gets pretty chaotic after that. Maisy and Colt descend first, then Malia leaps of the couch and dives in. Literally. Presents go skittering out of the way and Peter narrowly avoids spilling his coffee into his lap. He doesn't even yell. Stiles considers it a Christmas miracle. Derek doesn't bother getting into the fray now that it's started. Instead he flops down onto the couch and tucks Stiles into his side. Laura and her husband are passing gifts around to everyone staying out of the blast radius.

Derek is a careful unwrapper. He pulls up the tape and saves the paper, folding it and setting it aside. Stiles tears into his own, throwing the pieces around. He makes it a game to stick as many bows as possible onto Bher who's absolutely delighted. From Alpha Hale and Mayor Gavin he gets a subscription to Marvel Unlimited. He nearly screeches when he opens the box and sees the login information. Derek has to hold onto the back of his neck to bring him back to earth.

When the presents have been cleared and all that's left are Stiles and Derek's gifts to each other, the rest of the family clears out. The adults head to the kitchen to drink coffee and start up dinner. The kids run out onto the lawn to play with their new toys, leaving with loud comments about all the gross things Derek is probably about to do.

It makes him blush, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning pink. "Do you want to open yours first?"

Derek shakes his head and presses a small silver wrapped box into Stiles' hands. "You first. I can wait." He reaches out and cups Stiles' cheek in his hand and rubs his thumb back and forth. "Go ahead."

Stiles bops his nose against Derek's wrist then pulls back to open his gift. Because it's from Derek he takes his time, being careful with the paper. He lifts the lid and plucks off the top layer of tissue paper. Inside there's a sleek black thumb drive. At first Stiles thinks he's gotten more comic books, or maybe some pictures.

"Books." Derek plucks the thumb drive out of the box and holds it in front of Stiles' face. "We have an extensive library. Peter started scanning them to PDF's recently and I asked for a copy." He presses the drive into Stiles' hand. "Our pack history is in there as well. I translated some of the books to English for you. So you could learn more about our pack."

"Our pack."

"Yeah. Our pack." Derek smiles and kisses Stiles on the forehead. Stiles is just as much a member of his pack as any of the wolves. He deserves to know about the culture he's inheriting.

Stiles cradles the thumb drive to his chest and runs his fingers over the top of his gift to Derek. He feels like he couldn't have made a better choice. He pushes it to Derek's chest. The wrapping paper is a dull grandfatherly print. It's holly berries a stern looking Father Christmas. It only took them three years to get to the end of the roll. It was the kind of paper Claudia grew up with because her parents had to be stuffy even on the most festive of holidays.

Just like with every other gift, Derek is careful to lift away the tape without damaging the paper. It isn't in a box. Stiles couldn't find one that fit, hadn't really bothered honestly. It was a book. Derek picked it up gingerly and ran his fingers across the paper edge and thumbed the spine. Stiles wondered if he could still smell his mother on the worn paper. He couldn't anymore, but he only had a human nose to work with.

"Timequake?"

Stiles scooted closer and dropped his head on Derek's shoulder. "It was my mom's favorite. She loved Vonnegut. She wanted to read it to me. But she never got the chance." Stiles puts his hand over Derek's and closes his eyes.

"I could read it to you." Derek pulls his arm back and wraps it around Stiles' waist, pulling him closer. He rubs his chin over Stiles' crown.

"I'd like that...Daddy."

For a second Derek freezes. He'd called Stiles cub once or twice and he seemed to enjoy it. But he'd never pressed Stiles to call him anything but Derek. It was his choice. Derek set the book aside, carefully, and pulled Stiles into his lap. He cupped his hand around Stiles' head, his palm resting heavily over Stiles' ear and cocooning him in a safe small place. "Thank you so much cub. I love it." He rubbed his nose across Stiles' short hair and licked his lips. "I love you."

In his arms Stiles shuddered and drew his knees up more to tuck himself more firmly into his lap. "Love you too Daddy."


	24. Pumpkin Spice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so the central theme here is vomiting so if that bothers you don't read this one.

Pumpkin wasn't Stiles' favorite but he always got caught up in the hype. It was limited edition flavor and even though it came through every year like clockwork, Stiles liked to gorge himself like it was the last time he'd ever get it. He had at least one pumpkin flavored vomit pity session a year. This year it was over ice cream. Rich, thick, delicious pumpkin pie ice cream with maple syrup and graham cracker crumbles. Whip cream too. He was a mess. And just a little ashamed of himself.

He'd just meant to eat a bowl. But then he saw the whip cream and had another. Then he wanted to try it with some graham crackers. Then he dug up some maple syrup and that's like liquid fall so he had to try that. And now there's an empty carton of pumpkin ice cream on the counter and he can't get up off the living room floor.

He thinks he might have to barf in a shoe. Peter's loafers are by the arm chair. He could scoot that far. Stiles groans and tries to sit up one more time. It's not happening. No way is it happening. He pulls up his shirt and starts rubbing circles on his stomach, trying to mimic what his Daddy does for him when he has a tummy ache. It's not the same though. His long boney fingers don't have anything on his Daddy's big warm hands. He feels like he's just mushing the ice cream around.

"Ugh. I make bad choices." Peter was suppose to be watching him. It was a rare event that the house was almost entirely empty. Today it was suppose to be just the two of them for an hour or two. His Daddy was just running some errands. But that was more than enough time to get into the freezer. Peter trusted he could take care of himself.

Stiles was half grateful that someone thought he could and half pissed off because just look at what he'd done to himself. He obviously couldn't be trusted to make rational grownup decisions. He kicks his feet against the rug and contemplates yelling for Peter to help him. Just as he's about to he burps. It's loud and gross, tasting half like ice cream and half like hotdogs. And when did he even eat hotdogs last? That's it. He's going to puke.

Stiles rolls onto his side and holds his face over his bowl. Stiles burps again, then he retches. The first heave is mostly slime. Then he coughs and really throws up. It keeps on coming and Stiles can't imagine that he's actually eaten this much of anything. It's too much. Just before he gets another good heave in he's being lifted up. It's Peter.

"Half an hour Stiles. I can not leave you alone for thirty minutes." He drags Stiles over to the kitchen sink and tips him forward. Stiles clutches the rim of the sink and lets it all out. He can feel his shirt sticking to him where he dribbled on himself and the wet slime on his feet where he kicked over his bowl.

Despite his agitation Peter stays with Stiles, rubbing his back and making soothing sounds. When Stiles is all done Peter gets him a glass of water and urges him to wash out his mouth. "A whole carton Stiles? Really?" He eases Stiles away from the sink and sits him down.

"Sorry." Stiles folds his arms on the table and drops his head onto them. He's twisted to the side because Peter is still holding onto his leg.

Peter just sighs and grabs a dishtowel off the counter. He wets it and leaves the water running, to wash away what's left in the sink. He kneels and wipes up Stiles' feet. "Moderation Stiles." He chucks the towel into the sink and turns off the tap. "Nap time."

Stiles jerks upright and gapes at him. "I already had my nap!"

"And now you're getting another one." When Stiles opens his mouth to protest Peter flicks him on the nose. "You're lucky I'm not turning you over my knee." Peter leans back against the counter and stares him down. "Bed. Now."

With a loud, long groan, Stiles slips off the chair and starts stalking towards the stairs. He definitely feels better than he did ten minutes ago but he's not one hundred percent yet. As he passes by and sees the mess he made of the living room he's happy Peter's not making him clean up first. The thought that Peter could change his mind has him nearly sprinting up the stairs.

Up in his room nothing smells like pumpkin. After last year's cookie incident Derek put a ban on it. If a single pumpkin flavored thing gets past the doorway it's Stiles ass. He's not entirely sure if his Daddy would spank him over pumpkin but he doesn't want to risk it. And looking back on his recent decision, it's probably for the best. He crawls into bed, slinking under the covers and wrapping himself up like a burrito.

He must have fallen asleep because he feels someone sliding into bed beside him and he didn't hear anyone come up. "I heard what you did today." Stiles groans and tries to edge away but Derek catches him around his middle and pulls him back. "Was it worth it?" Stiles tucks his face into the bed and ties to play dead. Behind him Derek is torn. On the one hand, he hates when Stiles does this to himself, but on the other throwing up may have been punishment enough. And Peter had to clean it up which was a plus.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself Stiles. It just makes you sad." Derek tucks his hand under Stiles' shirt, which smells strongly of pumpkin and vomit, and starts rubbing circles on his belly. "What did I say about pumpkin Stiles?"

"Hm."

"Stiles, what did Daddy say about pumpkin?"

"Too much of a good thing--"

"Is a bad thing." Derek pulls away and heads to the dresser. He really wants Stiles to shower but he'll settle for just getting him another shirt. Derek's dreading when peppermint mocha comes into season.


	25. Theoretically

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is super duper short but I just really wanted them to have this conversation.

"Do you think I'll ever meet a zombie Daddy?"

"No Stiles."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

Derek took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Because zombies are difficult to make and even more difficult to control. People don't just go around making them."

"People in Louisiana do."

"One person in Louisiana, and that was an isolated incident."

Stiles kicked the back of the seat in front of him. "Still want to meet a zombie." Strictly speaking Stiles wasn't allowed to watch a lot of horror movies. The gore didn't really scare him but sometimes he got to thinking about different scenarios and how they could really happened and it stressed him out. And he had nightmares that one time. A couple of times. But only usually about creepy dolls or possessed children. But older movies were okay. Daddy thought they were hokey enough to not bother him.

Cora watched Night of the Living Dead with him and now he wanted to meet a zombie. There were different kinds. He didn't want to meet the ones from the movie. Necromancers could make zombies that were basically live people. Live people who didn't breathe or eat or grow anymore. Stiles wanted to meet one of those. For science. And to tell Scott that he'd met a real undead zombie. But Daddy was a spoilsport.

"But what if--"

Derek flicked on the radio and filled the car with Stiles' traveling CD. He was going to strangle Cora. She knew the two of them were going on a car trip. She knew it'd be just the two of them in a confined space for hours. And she brought zombies back to his attention. Stiles had an undying love for zombies. It was his life's mission to meet one. Derek almost banned those movies on principle.

The two of them made it another few miles in silence. "Theoretically,"

"Stiles!"

Stiles huffed and dramatically slumped down in his seat, kicking the seat in front of him and sliding half into the middle. "Daddy! I was just askin' a question. Not suppose to yell at curious little boys."

At this point Derek thinks Stiles is lucky he hasn't strangled curious little boys. The zombie line of questioning has gone on for the better part of an hour and he's sick of it. Every scenario imaginable has passed through Stiles' mind. Even one where a zombie joins FEMMA to help locate people stuck in rubble. He takes a deep breath and lowers the volume on the radio. "What did you want to ask Daddy?"

"If I met a zombie in the preserve could I bring him home to meet everyone?"

Derek rolls his eyes. The likelihood of meeting a zombie, the kind Stiles could potentially bring home, in the preserve was so close to zero Derek couldn't fathom it. "Alright Stiles. If you meet a non-violent zombie in the preserve you can bring him home."

In the backseat Stiles straightens up and beams. "Really?! Really Daddy I could?"

"Yes."

"And I can keep him?"

Derek makes a noise and thunks his head against the seat. He's tempted to just turn up the radio again to drown Stiles out. "No Stiles. We can't keep people as pets. Even--"

"Even if they's not really peoples anymore. I know." Stiles' mouth twists down in a frown. "Could be my friend though. I could feed him mice." More than anything Derek hopes this is the end of the conversation.


	26. Road Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the kudos and comments.

Derek preferred scenic roads. After living in New York he'd come to appreciate desolate stretches of high way where he could be by himself and see something other than the next office building. The air was cleaning. The view prettier. And it was quiet. If Stiles were the type of Little who could sit still he'd take him on more car rides. On either side of Derek there were tall sequoia's and not much else. It was late.

He and Stiles had volunteered to pick Cora up from her trip to Canada. She was considering going to college out that way but she wanted to test out the woods first. It was a bit of a surprise. The rest of the pack thought she'd head to Brazil for a semester before wandering back. She'd always loved the heat.

"I'm hungry." Cora's eyes were closed, her head leaning against her hoodie that was balled against the window. "Pull over somewhere."

"We're a little while from anything."

"I'm hungry Derek."

Derek rolled his eyes. "I could catch you a squirrel. Maybe a possum." Derek let his car list lazily towards the side of the road. Cora didn't even bother opening her eyes. She knew a bluff when she heard it.

"Speed a little."

"I'm not speeding with Stiles in the car." Sometimes his sister could be needier than a Little. His heart ached for Isaac, it really did. "McDonalds or IHOP?"

"Whichever is closer." Had she bothered to open her eyes she'd have seen that they were on the same exit. In the backseat Stiles was asleep. For the ride Derek had brought a stuffed animal that velcroed around the seatbelt for him to use as a pillow. His face was tucked into it's neon colored fur, matting it with drool. His right leg was flung out, half across the seats. A single sneaker had been kicked off at some point. If Cora wasn't going to be any help Derek was going to chose what Stiles wanted.

Which meant pancakes. He liked burgers as much as the next teen, but strawberry syrup called to Stiles like nothing else. Stiles was still sleeping when they hit the off ramp. And he slept through the quiet dark streets of the town they passed through. When they pull into the IHOP Derek shakes his sister's shoulder. "What do you want?"

"Something greasy."

"Keep an ear out for him." He gets out as quietly as possible. As nice as it is to have Stiles asleep in the car, it can be difficult. Stiles gets disoriented and easily upset it he wakes up somewhere strange. It wouldn't be a problem if Derek were there to calm him down. Sometimes all it takes is him passing his hand over the back of his neck. But if Stiles see's he's not in the car he'll start crying.

Thankfully the IHOP is mostly empty. There's a few bikers in one corner and some drunk college kids in another. The hostess looks almost relived to have something to do. "What can I get you honey?"

"A big steak omelet, a chicken fajita omelet, and two servings of silver dollar pancakes. Add strawberries."

"Whip cream?"

"No, but I need strawberry syrup." He gets a coke for himself and Cora then decides on a Sprite for Stiles. This time of night should be juice only but he's been good and there's no caffeine, he can't see what harm it will do. While he waits for his order he keeps his eyes on the car. It's hard to see through the glare but it looks like Stiles is still passed out. Cora might be too. They still had another hour of driving to do before they got back to Beacon Hills and another three or so before it got light out. With any luck Stiles would eat and go back to sleep without fuss.

"Your order." Derek turned back to the counter and paid. He carefully backed out of the diner and headed for the car. Cora graciously rolled down her window to accept the drinks. He goes to the drivers side and is about to slide in when he smells it. The length of the drive trumped the usual rule of pull ups only at bedtime. Derek wanted to err on the side of caution.

"You could have told me he needed a change."

"He went right when you got outside. Should I have yelled out the window?" Cora fixes him with a bland look and takes the food from him. "I figured it'd be better if you woke him up."

She's right. Stiles still doesn't react well to accidents. Derek's not sure if this would count or not. He's absolutely fine with Derek changing his diaper in the mornings when it's just the two of them in the safety of their room. It embarrasses him to lose control anywhere else.

Derek shuts the door and rounds the car to open Stiles' side. He's still snuggled into his seatbelt. Derek reaches across him and unclicks the belt and loops the diaper bag strap around his arm before pulling Stiles gently from the car. He comes easily enough, sleepily snuggling into Derek's chest. Derek bumps the door shut with hip and adjusts Stiles' skirt to cover his pull up. He holds tight across Stiles' back and under his butt as he makes his way back.

When he gets to the door a biker smelling heavily of cigar smoke holds it open for them. "Thank you." The biker nods and huffs out a little laugh when he sees Stiles' one socked foot.

Once inside the rush of cold air has him curling in close to Derek. He lets out a little whimper and finally seems to realize he's not in the car anymore. "Daddy?"

"It's alright cub."

"Where?"

"Shh, just going to change you." Derek cups the back of Stiles' head and pushes it into his neck. The other customers in the IHOP aren't paying them any attention but he doesn't want Stiles to be uncomfortable. He keeps his chin tucked to his crown and keeps his pace calm. They make it to the bathroom without incident and thankfully it's empty.

Along the wall there's a changing table. It's heavily bolted to the wall and obviously meant for infants and Littles. Derek held Stiles more firmly with one arm and pulled down the changing table. It smelt like old plastic and alcohol wipes. Derek still didn't trust it. As gently as he could he dug a blanket from the diaper bag and laid it out, smoothing it with his one free hand. Then he hoisted Stiles onto it and pushed him to lay down.

"Someone could see." Stiles stuffed his fingers in his mouth and arched his back to twist back and see the door. Derek tisked and pulled his fingers free.

"We'll be quick. No one will see." Derek holds Stiles' hand as he digs through the bag for wipes and another pull up. Once he's set everything out he flips up Stiles' skirt and starts ripping the seams of the pull up. He taps Stiles' hip and pulls it away once his hips lift. He pitches it in the trash and pulls out some wipes. The first touch of the damp wipe has Stiles clamping his legs shut and gasping.

Derek is patient, kneading the skin of Stiles' thighs until he relaxes and drops his legs open again. Derek plucks up a new wipe and thoroughly cleans Stiles up. When he's done he picks up the new pull up and fans it over Stiles' groin to dry him out. "Almost done cub." To make things easier he pulls off Stiles' one shoe and tosses it into the diaper bag, then he eases the pull up up his legs. When it's in place Derek ducks down and nuzzles the thin strip of belly he can see between the top of the cotton and the elastic band.

Stiles giggles and curls up, cradling his Daddy's face between his knees and arms. His scruff tickles the sensitive skin of his belly and wakes him up fully, drawing out gasps and huffs of laughter. "Daddy no!" He kicks his feet pitifully across the blanket, wiggling and tugging at his Daddy's hair until the changing table creaks ominously.

The sound is enough to have Derek pulling away. "Okay, okay, we're done." Derek pulls back and tosses the wipes back in the diaper bag and slings it over his shoulder. Then he holds out his arms for Stiles to hop into. "Grab the blanket." Stiles twists to the side and pulls up the blanket, tucking it to his side and hugging it. Derek checks that they haven't forgotten anything and that Stiles' skirt is covering his butt before leaving.

"We at IHOP Daddy?"

"Yeah, Auntie Cora got hungry."

"You get me pancakes Daddy?"

Derek presses a quick kiss to his cheek. "And strawberry syrup." Stiles is so happy about the syrup he smiles and waves every one of the drunken customers and the bored waitress as they head out.


	27. Derek Gets A Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Derek totally has friends now.

It wasn't that he didn't know he was well off, because he did. He was very aware that it was unusual for three siblings close in age to all get new cars when they turned sixteen. He knew it was unusual to be able to fly out to New York like it was nothing. He knew most people couldn't just drop a couple hundred at a store because they felt like treating themselves. Derek was very aware that he came from money. He just wasn't always aware of what it was like for people who didn't come from money.

When he was a teenager his friends had all be so excited about the things he had that they never offered up what they lacked. And the people he'd lived with in New York came from similar backgrounds. It wasn't until he started courting Stiles that he took into consideration how much planning certain things took. For the Hale pack Christmas was a flurry of last minute shopping. Derek never worried about having enough money around Christmas time to get everything so he always waited until the last minute.

For Stiles and Scott, Christmas shopping could begin as early as July. Their parents would put away money a little at a time or pick up toys here and there so that by December they still had money to pay their bills. And that's how the Caregivers at the day care were doing things. The usual group decided to get together for a shopping trip so they could pitch ideas and estimate their costs. And even though it was painfully obvious that it wasn't necessary for Derek to do the same, they extended the invitation regardless.

That's how Derek found himself sitting in the mall food court before noon on a Sunday. Despite the early hour, it was nice. Derek couldn't remember the last time he'd gone out with friends during the day without Stiles bouncing around somewhere.

"What are you getting Stiles?"

Derek swallowed his bite of orange chicken and licked his lips. "I'm not sure. I think he has enough comic stuff." He really isn't sure. At this point he's not sure what he can get Stiles that he doesn't already have.

"You could take him somewhere." Jeremy is across from him. He's probably the best male friend he has. It helps that his Little and Stiles get along wonderfully. They have very particular ideas about glitter. "Plaster Blaster or something."

"That sounds great actually." Plaster Blaster is a little shop filled to the brim with plaster creations. Customers come in, pick an item and paint it. It's like Build a Bear. And that's another idea. "Maybe we could go to Build a Bear."

"I heard they have a new supernatural line."

Sheila makes a moaning noise around her mouthful of pizza. "Not just mermaids now." She wipes her mouth and tips her head back. There's a Build a Bear in the back of the mall squeezed next to a dog accessory shop. "They have all kinds of things now. I'm thinking of getting a Selkie for Devon."

Derek did hear something about the new line. After Maisy saw the ad in the paper her mom took her and Bher to get something. That was an idea. Maybe he could get him a gift certificate. They could go in the day after Christmas and make something nice. "We should go look." Around the table everyone nods and makes their own comments about the things they're looking for. He finishes up his chicken and plantain while everyone else finishes up their last bites. As soon as they're up there's a group of teenagers, all subs by the look, squeezing into their seats with happy thank yous.

The store is busy but that's to be expected. Sunday mornings aren't for cartoons, a lot of parents have it off. Derek feels a little out of place. He usually does without Stiles. Without a Little on his arm he feels creepy walking through toy stores. he feels like someone is just waiting around the corner to jump out and call him a pervert.

"Don't look so tense."

Derek rolls his shoulder and tries to ease up.

"Well it's not murder face so that's an improvement." Sheila smacks him across the chest with her arm and heads over to the wall of outfits. They have a whole line of superhero bears and clothes. Derek spots the batman outfit and Captain America suit easily. Derek gives it a once over but heads to the bears first. It's a little odd. They all look deflated and lifeless. He snorted and wandered down the wall past the bears and My Little Pony's until he hit the supernatural stuff. There were still two columns of mermaids in all different colors and prints.

But past that Derek started seeing the new stuff. He saw two types of Selkies, one in brown, one black with white spots. The he saw the wolves, creepy muppet baby like things with big teeth and yellow eyes. Derek flicked one of them on the nose and moved on. There was one sad hook of Kelpies, all black and made that much creepier by the lack of stuffing. Then there's a column of sprites, all different colors with shimmery wings and rows of pointy little plastic teeth. Then Derek comes to a stop. On a bottom hook there's a zombie.

It's got patched skin, sickly blue and green. There's a version with a patch of brain showing and one missing an eye. Derek takes off towards the outfits. Price doesn't even matter at this point, not that it had before. Stiles is getting that zombie doll. Derek stops in front of the clothes looking up and down for all the things that could fit on it's form. Derek's mind is reeling with the possibilities. He could have a zombie Avenger, or doctor. Derek was excited himself.

"Whoa tiger, there's children here." Sheila is standing over a basket of sports accessories looking amused.

"I found the perfect gift."

"I can tell. Stuffies really do it for you then?"

Derek nearly chokes. "Sheila no, I...Stiles is--"

Sheila busts out laughing. "Oh my God, your face!" She stumbles over to him, eyes scrunched closed in laughter and smacks him on the shoulder. She's practically snorting now. "What'd you find big guy?"

"A zombie doll. Stiles wants to meet one."

"He will." She's completely deadpan. Sheila looks way too serious for the laughing fit she's just had and it only takes a second for him to catch her meaning. "If there's anyone in the whole world who could find a zombie not hell bent on eating brains, it'd be your little one." It kind of pains him to admit that he believes her.

"If he meets one I'm bringing them over for a playdate." Because he will. There's no way he's going to suffer alone if Stiles finally gets his wish.

"Bring it on."

After that they check out the stuffing machines and the smaller accessories in baskets. By the time everyone else is ready to hop to the next store Derek has a good idea how much money they're going to spend. A lot. He's not too bothered by it. He has the money to spend on Stiles. And it's money he's earned. If he doesn't spend it on Stiles it'll just sit in his bank account and gather dust.

They wander into a video game store. Derek absolutely has no interest in getting anything for Stiles from here. Scott has a very predictable habit of getting Stiles games. Even if Derek managed to figure out which one Stiles wanted he'd probably just end up ruining Scott's plans. But across from the game store there's a clothing store. It's aimed towards teenage boys. There's a lot of baggy jeans and graphic tees.

Derek waves off his friends and wanders over. He feels out of place here too. There's a group of teenage doms being rowdy near a display of hats. They all smell like Axe and arrogance. Derek skirts away from them and heads to a display of soft looking shirts. He starts flipping through them, barely reading the snarky sayings and stick figure prints.  
The teenagers come closer and Derek is about to head back to his friends when he sees just what he's looking for. A Hulk shirt. It's got his snarling green face in the center with blocky yellow text over it saying "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." It's a little over priced, like all mall clothes are, but Stiles has wanted it forever. He's been good lately. And   
Derek is proud of how well Stiles has been doing lately. He pulls it off the rack and skirts around the teenagers to buy it.

The clerk looks bored out her skull, obviously not impressed with her fellow Dom's. "This all?"

"Yes, thank you." Derek swipes his card and nods when she gestures to the smallest bag they have. It's still ridiculous looking. The storefront font is graffiti like and has at least two z's. When he's heading back to the game store his friends rib him about what can only be a ridiculous purchase. He takes it with good nature. Everyone ends up leaving with something stupid. Sheila walked out with a gallon box of wine that had an easy pour spout. The whole thing was five dollars.

As they wander through the parking lot they make tentative plans for a big play date. There's a spooky hay ride being set up by the community college. When Derek slides into his car and joins the line of cars leaving the parking lot he smiles. It's nice to have friends.


	28. Ugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of people have asked for a chapter about Stiles not in his headspace. I am working on it but it's going to be a long chapter so it might be a while before it gets up.

He'd just been trying to make friends. Honestly. So he didn't have Scott McCall levels of animal magnetism. Sue him. He was more than capable of making woodland friends. There was a very nice family of foxes on the edge of their property that loved him dearly. No matter what that butt face Jarrett said.

"I DO NOT!"

"Ugh, it's so gross. I can even--" Jarrett starts gagging and retching while his brother and sister hover behind the doorframe. They're outside and no one will let Stiles in. Because they're butt faces. They're all just big mean butt faces that don't appreciate his communes with nature.

Maisy bravely totters closer on her toes. She gets about five feet from him before she too is gagging. She pulls the hem of her hoodie up to hide her nose and scurries back to the porch. So maybe Stiles was being a little bias. They weren't all butt faces. Maisy wasn't at least. And maybe Stiles smelled a little bad. Just a little though.

"I wanna go in!"

"We can't let you in. Not until Derek comes down." Elias, kind of sort of the middle child, takes his role as mediator seriously. He's nicer than Jarrett for sure but no where near as sweet as Maisy. Stiles doesn't want to be mad at him though. But he should be allowed to go inside. That's where his Daddy is. That's where the shower is.

He gave them a chance. He had very nicely asked to go inside and they wouldn't let him. They'd been warned. Stiles sucked in a deep breath and yelled as loud as could. "DAAADDDDDYYYYYY!" Feeling entirely justified, Stiles works himself up into a tantrum, screaming and wailing until his Daddy is barreling out into the backyard. It seems that the whole pack is behind him.

Each and every one of them come to a full and abrupt stop when they smell him. Even Derek, who made it closest. His face is twisted up and Stiles can see the way his throat is working to fight the gag reflex. "Stiles...why?"

That, was not what Stiles was expecting. The rage melts away and Stiles seems to deflate in front of the pack. "I was..." Stiles balls up his hands and starts rubbing at his eyes, furiously trying to keep the tears away. He can hear Malia and Peter laughing with Jarrett. And that's not fair. It's not.

Derek has barely a second to breathe between the first lip wobble and Stiles' first sob. It was like a flip switched. One second he's a ball of anger and frustration, the next he's sobbing. Stiles has his hands pressed to his eyes but it doesn't hide how pink and flushed his face has gotten. He's absolutely wailing now, obviously distraught at the laughter going on and the teasing Peter's kids must have dealt.

Derek takes a few deep breaths through his mouth and steps closer to Stiles. He should probably give him a hug, but his entire shirt front is covered in skunk spray and Derek doesn't want any of it on himself. The smell is horrendous enough on Stiles. He settles for rubbing his hand through Stiles' hair. "It's okay cub." He edges a little closer and tugs Stiles' hands down and holds them. "What happened?"

Stiles starts to gasp, sucking in big gulps of air to calm himself down. "I wa...", Stiles hiccups out a few more sobs, "was makin' friends." Stiles tries to dive in for a hug and instinctually Derek takes a step back because of the smell. Stiles absolutely loses it, wailing at the top of his lungs and throwing himself onto the ground. Behind them Laura and Talia are urging everyone inside.

Derek panics for a second, completely out of his depth. He's never denied Stiles affection, ever. He crouches down and nearly gets smacked in the face by Stiles' failing limbs. "It's okay. It's okay Stiles. I'm sorry." He grabs Stiles under his arms and hauls him backwards. It's a struggle. He throws every inch of his weight around making it almost impossible for Derek to get a good grip. "Daddy's sorry Stiles." He lets go for a second then lunges forward and wraps his arms tight around Stiles' middle then pulls him back to his chest.

Stiles wrestles in his grip, biting and scratching at Derek to get away. "Stiles." Derek wrenches Stiles to the side, then pins him to the ground. "Stiles!" He lets his weight rest heavily on Stiles until the boy stops squirming and quiets down. When his heart rate and breathing even out and all Derek can hear are soft little puffs of whines Derek sits up. "Stiles, Daddy's sorry he didn't give you a hug. But you don't hit or bite." He slides off of Stiles and taps his cheek. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes." Stiles' tone is petulant and angry. Derek gives him a quick swat on the thigh.

"Stiles!"

Stiles shoves his fingers in his mouth and rolls onto his knees. He keeps his eyes on his lap but mumbles an apology for his tone. "'M gettin' a spankin'?"  
"Yes, but not until after we clean you up." Derek leans forward and tugs Stiles' fingers out of his mouth then stands. He yanks off his shirt, tossing it into the grass as far away from him as he can. "Stay here." Derek doesn't wait for Stiles to acknowledge him. He knows his little boy knows he's dug himself in deep.

In the shed they have a blue plastic splash pool. They set it up for the little ones in the summer but it's been put away for a while now. Derek digs it out and drags it to the backyard where, predictably, Stiles hasn't moved so much as an inch. He lays the pool out and goes over to the hose. "Strip, all the way cub." While Derek drags the hose over and starts filling the tub Stiles tugs his clothes free and leaves them in a smelly heap.

Out in the open, Stiles feels exposed and raw. He covers his groin with his hands and drops his chin to his chest, avoiding his Daddy's eyes.

"Get in." Derek gestures to the pool. He watches carefully as Stiles steps into the cold water and lowers himself down. Goosebumps rise almost instantly across his fair skin. Derek almost regrets not taking him inside. "I'll go as quick as I can cub." Derek tosses the hose aside and crouches down near the rim of the pool. He can hear Mitch coming up behind him. He hands Derek a bowl and a bag and hurries away.

The bag has a big soft sponge, one meant for a car, a towel, and a bottle of dish soap. The bowl is full of a frothy paste. It's vinegar and baking soda. Derek scoops a handful of it up and starts working it into Stiles' chest. The paste will neutralize the smell. Most of it anyways, enough for Stiles to come into the house without choking everyone. After that the soap will wash away the oil clinging to his skin.

For the most part Stiles is calm. He's cold but not quite shivering. Derek is trying to work as quickly as possible so they can get inside. Luckily most of the spray was concentrated on his chest, like he tried to pick the skunk up. "What were you thinking?"

Stiles sniffles and frowns. "Was tryin' to make a friend."

Derek tisks and flicks some of the water at Stiles' neck. "Wild animals aren't pets Stiles. You have to respect them."

"I was! I was bein' nice."

Derek frowns. "The skunk didn't seem to think so." Before Stiles can say something else Derek plunges the sponge into the water and soaps it up. He washes Stiles' carefully, using a lot of soap and stroking in circular motions. Stiles' whole front is a mess of thick white foam. Already the smell is better. It's still thick but Derek knows the smell is coming mostly from the dirty water now. Stiles' skin is mostly free of the scent. If they stick him in front of fan the rest of it should air out by bed time.

"I'm sorry Daddy. Was mad." Stiles sniffles and brings his hands up to wipe at his eyes. His lip is trembling and Derek knows he's fighting to not break down again. Derek drops the sponge and smoothes his hands up and down Stiles' arms.

"I know cub. When we get you inside and dry we're going to talk. And you will get a spanking. We don't bite. Not even with people teeth. It's not nice." Derek smooths back Stiles' hair then pulls his hands away from his face. "I'm not mad about the skunk. That was an accident. But Daddy would appreciate it if you stuck to less smelly animals next time okay."

"Like the foxes?"

Derek tips his head to the side and fights a sigh. The fox family does love Stiles. But they have a way of working him and Malia up and they're nearly impossible to wrangle after they've played together. "Yeah, let's stick to the foxes." Anything was better than that smell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles found the skunk under the trampoline and just wanted a friend.


	29. Bher at Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little something about Bher before I post something longer and more Sterek.

Lot's of kids. No cubs. Someone smells like maple syrup. Underneath though. On top everyone smells like glue and grass. Bher likes the grass smell. Glue can be gross. The gel kind is better, smells like uncle's hair. Bher puts his hands on his hips and takes a deep breath. Maple syrup girl is on the swings. There's dirty kids next to her that smell like dirt. He doesn't like their faces. Trickster faces, like when Uncle Peter has plans.

Not cool. Bher curls his lip and bares his teeth. Fangs are away. No pack, no danger, no fangs. He knows. He stalks over to the dirt boys and stands in front of them. They're a little taller than him. Hales grow late. He'll be tall later. Now he's a tiny ball of fury. Sneaky. Grumbly.

"What'cha'ya doin'?" Start nice. Never assume someone's guilty. Guilty until proven innocent. Stiles taught him that. The dirt boys are brothers. Bher can smell it on them. The taller one smirks. The littler one shrinks back. They're guilty. Don't look guilty until you get caught. Or you get caught. Malia taught him that.

"Nothin'. We're gonna swing." The taller dirt boy points to the swing set. Maple syrup girl is there alone. She's spun the swing around and around so the chain is all twisted up. Her bare toes are in the dirt, letting her unwind slowly.

"I can swing too?" Bher takes a step back. He's between the dirt boys and Maple Syrup.

The taller dirt boy crosses his arms. "Yeah, okay. Swing with us." Bher took a big step backwards, keeping his eyes on the dirt brothers the whole time. He could hear where he was going just fine. He backed to the swings and plopped down next to Maple Syrup girl. The littler dirt boy looked nervously between Bher and his brother.

"You swingin'?" Bher wrapped his little fingers around the chain and kicked out his feet to get a little swing going. Maple Syrup was quiet beside him. The bigger dirt boy pushed his brother back and stuck his hand into his pocket. Bher bared his teeth and let a little growl rumble in his chest. He was careful to keep it quiet. Ms. Munger told them this morning she didn't think anything could be solved with growling. Grandma taught him that wasn't true. Sometimes growling got things done.

Beside him maple syrup girl was watching her toes. But her head was tipped. Bher could tell she was listening. He turned his attention back to the dirt brothers. They both looked a little scared. Bher knew he was the only cub in the class. And it smelt like he was the only one at this recess. "Aren't you gonna swing?" Bher leaned forward, daring the dirt brothers to come closer.

The littler brother shakes his head and shoves his brother. The two of them look over maple syrup girl one more time then run off. Now that they're gone Bher relaxes and takes another deep breath. Grass. Maple syrup. Rusty iron. Good.

Bher kicks his little legs. Beside him Maple Syrup unwinds herself and starts pumping her legs too. Before long the two of them are in a silent competition to outdo each other. Bher tries to put all of his strength into his kicks but maple syrup keeps up, matching him swing for swing. Finally they get to their limit. Bher knows if he kicks any harder the chain will clank and he'll fall. So lets go and pushes himself into the air. He lands in a roll, tumbling away from the swings into the grass. He pops up with a smile and puts his hands on his hips.

Maple Syrup laughs, high and giddy. She sounds like Stiles on the trampoline. Bher waits for her to slow down but she doesn't. She kicks her little legs and waits until she's at the top of her swing. Then she flings herself off. But she doesn't drop into a roll. Instead she lands on her feet, a little wobbly, but she sticks. And for just a second Bher saw the way the grass strained up to greet her and how the blades curled around her ankles like a hello. They're going to be best friends. Bher can tell.


	30. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everybody! This one is a rambler but I hope you like it anyways.

Halloween dawned as early as any Christmas. In a rare event it was Stiles who woke the house, rather than Bher. And the toddler was duly confused at the new development. He sat in the hall for nearly fifteen minutes sulking about it. Stiles was so excited about wearing his costume he ran up to the playroom to get his helmet.

True to their early conversation, Stiles was wearing a skirt. He and Lydia had worked on his costume together. Now he had his very own version of a Fem Loki costume, complete with a green silk high low skirt. It billowed around his legs in a way that made Lydia giddy. Derek woke up to the sound of Stiles stampeding through the house yelling "Avengers Assemble!" The only reason Derek isn't turning him over his knee is because the other kids follow shortly after.

Stiles dives into the bed, whacking Derek in the stomach with his helmet. "Daddy it's Halloween! HALLOWEEN!"

Derek groaned and tossed the helmet off the bed then rolled Stiles underneath him. "It'll still be Halloween in an hour." He knows he won't get an hour. He can feel that Stiles' pull up is damp and soggy. It's probably what woke him up. And now that Talia is up breakfast is going to start. Mitch had campaigned for something healthy to make up for the candy that's coming later. They're having baked oatmeal and fruit. It won't take more than fifteen minutes to heat it up.

"I'm excited Daddy."

"I know." Derek tucks his nose into Stiles' hair and takes a deep breath. He lets himself relax for a few more minutes, rubbing his thumb across Stiles' hip. "Come on cub, let's get you changed." He pulls away and stumbles over to grab some wipes and a pair of underwear. When he comes back to the bed Stiles is sprawled out and ready to be changed. He's holding his helmet up above his head, turning it this way and that to catch the light. When his pull up first gets pulled away his toes curl at the cold air but he keeps his legs open.

The change goes quickly. Once he's clean Derek slips his underwear over his ankles and up to his knees. From there Stiles is happy to take over, hopping off the bed and wiggling them up around his hips. "I can wear my costume now Daddy?"

Derek shakes his head and flicks Stiles on the nose. "Not until after dinner. You don't want to spill anything on it." Having already anticipated it, Derek pulls out a Halloween t-shirt. It's got big cartoon organs painted on the chest with zombie hands coming down from the shoulders. He tosses it to Stiles then pulls out a pair of jeans and a red skirt. There's a very firm rule in the house about costumes before dinner after what happened when Laura was four. Derek, obviously, doesn't remember it but he's heard the stories.

Grandma Hale had made her a full ball gown Belle costume, complete with the hoop skirt. By lunch it was stained purple in the front and she had thrown an unholy fit complete with a beta change. So no costumes before dinner.

Stiles took the jeans. When he pulled them up all the way Derek saw that his socks actually matched for once. That probably had more to do with them being his special Batman socks. The yellow emblem stretched across the two, split down the middle. "Breakfast now Daddy?"

"Yeah, Mitch made oatmeal." He pulls Stiles close to him and kisses him on the temple. Derek rubs his hand up and down Stiles' arm and tugs him along out of the room. Cora is standing at the top of the stairs, almost hugging the banister. Her hair is a frazzled mess and Derek is careful to put himself between her and Stiles. Better safe than sorry.

The kids predictably looked bight eyed and bushy tailed. Mitch looked perky as well, already dishing up oatmeal to everyone sitting down. Derek figured being Bher's father must have desensitized him to early mornings. Bher was a kicker and a bed sharer. Derek dreads the day he joins Mitch in the joy of early mornings. He hopes it never happens. Usually Stiles is more than happy to sleep in, but things could change.

At the breakfast table the kids have all dressed up in their Halloween best. Maisy is wearing a pair of Minnie Mouse ears. Her brothers are wearing superhero shirts with capes attached. Even Talia has gotten into the spirit. Her normal terry bathrobe has been replaced by a velvety black one that bares a Ravenclaw crest on the breast. Derek feels a little under dressed honestly.

He pushes Stiles to sit next to Malia who's wearing Stiles' fennec fox hoodie. Derek's been wondering where that got to. Stiles slides in easily and he and Malia immediately launch into where they want to walk. Malia was originally suppose to go to a party with Kira but after a lot of begging and pleading, Derek suspects Scott's puppy eyes played a part, everyone is going trick or treating with Stiles instead. But Stiles and the other kids will be done early enough for the rest of them to cut out for a party anyways. Derek has assured Peter that Kira is more than capable of keeping Malia safe at a little house party.

So far the plan is to eat dinner around 5:30 and head out by seven. The kids will probably get tired after an hour and a half. Stiles will still be hyped up but Derek is hoping the sugar crash will let him get a little peace and quiet for some private time with Stiles. He rubs his hand across Stiles shoulders then pulls out a gallon of milk and a pitcher of juice. He circles the table, filling up little cups and pouring milk to steaming bowls of baked oatmeal. He leaves Bher's and Elias' bowls alone. Then he tucks everything back in the fridge and sits down next to a bleary eyed Peter.

"Eat Stiles." Derek taps the table in front of his bowl and stares him down until Stiles takes a big bite. It bulges his cheeks but Derek lets it slide. Stiles is going to need the energy for what they're doing for the day. To kickstart Thanksgiving volunteers are going around trick or treating for change. At the end of the day they'll take their money to the collection box sitting in the Sheriff's station where it'll be taken and rolled. Then all of the money will be used to buy food for Thanksgiving baskets. With any luck they'll reach their goal of one thousand dollars. Obviously not in penny's, but some households have already pledged money to the cause. Derek and his mother had collected a lot of promises and Derek intended to cash in.

"Who's taking the kids this morning?" Laura is speaking mostly to her coffee cup but she flicks her eyes pleadingly at Mitch. Her husband doesn't seem to be biting though. He's happy enough to be awake but he's not eager to herd the cubs to school. Enclosed space and excitement are a recipe for disaster.

It's Cora who saves the day. She's not dressed for Halloween. Instead she's in baggy sweats and a sports bra but she's already got sunglasses perched on her nose and shoes on her feet. "I'm heading out, I'll take them." The adults mutter a round of thank you's and Talia gives her a brief one armed hug. Her generosity probably has less to do with wanting to help and more to do with her wanting to sneak away to see Isaac early in the morning without being teased. He's working at Starbucks now and when Cora doesn't grab her giant mug for coffee Derek knows he's assumed right.

Once everyone's eaten there's a mad dash to find lost shoes and someone's lost a folder. Jarrett and Elias want to swap shirts but their mom is saying no. Bher is oddly zen, grumbling to himself about his spider print sweater. Finally Peter and Laura start grabbing people by their necks to get them in the car. By the time everyone is buckled in Cora looks like she's ready to crash the car head first into a pole.

Its not long after when the adults start trickling out. Even Malia has early plans. It doesn't take long for Derek and Stiles to get the house to themselves. "Daddy, we gonna collect money?"

"After lunch." There wasn't an actual set time to start the rounds. So long as every volunteer covered their designated area they could go whenever they felt like. Derek figured people would be more likely to give money if they'd been allowed a sleep in. Derek reaches out and tugs Stiles close to him. He pulls him in for a hug and for a few seconds the two of them just cuddle. Derek starts rubbing his stubble across Stiles' cheeks earning him a peal of giggles.

"Daddy no whiskers!" Stiles wiggles back and sticks his tongue out at his Daddy. He narrowly avoids his Daddy's fingers. Daddy always tries to catch his tongue when he sticks it out. He almost never gets it. Stiles is very proud of that. He swoops in quick and nips at the underside of his Daddy's chin, giving it a quick tiny bite. Then he pulls back and darts away. He plans on hiding up in the play room but he quickly loses traction in his socks and skids near the stairs, landing heavily on his hip and elbow.

For a second Stiles can't breathe. He's fallen like that a million times and it never hurts any less. Tears well up in his eyes, more from the sting than anything but Derek must smell it. He comes running over hoists Stiles off the ground and huddles him in close. While Derek coos and shushes him Stiles works to get his breath back. "Let's not break a bone on Halloween. Loki doesn't have a cast."

Derek is trying to be funny. He doesn't think anything is actually broken and if possible he'd like to curb the chance of a breakdown. When Stiles let's out a breathy chuckle he knows he's been successful. "How's it feel?"

Stiles tucks his nose into his Daddy's arms. "Just scared me Daddy. M'fine."

"This is why we don't run in the house."

"Everyone runs in the house."

Derek pulls back and flicks Stiles on the head. "You're not everyone. You're my little boy and my little boy isn't suppose to run in the house." In his arms Stiles harrumphs but doesn't argue anymore. He stands, pulling Stiles with him, and pushes his gently towards the stairs. He keeps his hands firm on Stiles' shoulders to emphasis his need to walk. "You can play for now, but stay out of your costume. I mean it Stiles."

"Okay, okay." Stiles slumps off into the play room to color before they have to go. Once Derek is sure Stiles is occupied he heads into the study to start some of his own work. A client wants a family tree compiled by mid-December. He'd rather not get stuck finishing it all during the last week of the deadline.

Time seems to fly by in the study. He keeps an ear on Stiles but things stay quiet. Whenever they're leading up to a holiday Stiles is amazingly well behaved. Derek manages to finish the rough outline for the tree. There's a few people he's going to have to fluff out, if the rumors are anything to go by. But he's gotten the gist that his customer wants a positive spin on things rather than something strictly factual. Which he understands. Even if some of his spins end up being laughable.

He stretches in his chair, cracking his back and groaning. It's lunch time now, and Stiles has more than earned a treat with his lunch. Derek goes into the kitchen and heats up some leftover chili. "Lunch Stiles!" Almost immediately he hears Stiles' scrambling up and bounding to the stairs. He braces his hands on the counter and waits to hear if Stiles actually runs down the stairs. Thankfully Stiles catches himself and very carefully heads down the stairs, coming to a full stop at each one. When he finally rounds the corner Derek's eyebrows are raised.

"I can have hot chocolate with it Daddy? 'Cause I was good?" Stiles leans heavily on the counter and bats his eyelashes. He really was good. He colored quietly the whole time and didn't even put on a tiny piece of his costume even though he really wanted to. "Please Daddy?"

Derek sighs but holds up one finger. "One cup Stiles. Just one." He turns and points to the table, where the chili is sitting, all ready to be eaten. When Stiles slides into the waiting seat Derek heads to the cabinet to pull down some chocolate syrup. The powdered stuff has a strange aftertaste to most werewolves. "Are you excited for tonight?" Derek turns on the stove and pours in some milk. Behind him Stiles swallows a mouthful of chili.

"So excited!"

"How many people are coming with us?"

"Daaaadddy, you know." Stiles twists in his seat to frown at his Daddy's back. He puts up his hand and starts counting everyone off. "Scott is gonna be Black Widow and Allison is gonna be Hawkeye. An' Kira is Scarlet Witch and Malia is Spidergirl. Lydia is goin' as Ms. Potts. An' you gonna be Wolverine right? You said Daddy."

Derek smirks as he pours out the hot chocolate. It hadn't taken but one tearful plead for him to cave. He'd agreed to be Wolverine for Stiles before his group of friends even decided on their Marvel theme. Derek brings the mug up to his mouth and blows on it while he goes to the table. His own chili is sitting next to Stiles'. The sour cream on top has melted down to a puddle. "Yes, Daddy is going as Wolverine." He passes the mug to Stiles, only letting go when he's sure Stiles has a good grip on it.

They talk while they eat. Stiles wants to go through Lydia's neighborhood because they're more likely to have full sized candy bars. But Derek knows there's going to be at least three house parties on one block alone. They won't kick off until Stiles is back home but Derek's worried whoever's setting up will already be buzzed. He wants to go through the houses that lead up to the elementary school. But Stiles had heard from Colt that a lot of those houses were going to be giving out pretzels and raisins.

Colt and Peter's children are going to the Halloween block party hosted next to the Mayor's office. They'll trick or treat around there for a little while, then go to the party. Talia already has a row of air mattresses set up in her office for their sugar crash. Finally they manage to settle on Stiles' old neighborhood. The people around there obviously know Stiles and won't give his friends a hard time for trick or treating despite their age and designation.

"Alright cub, shoes."

"Ooh, we get to collect now?"

"After you put on your shoes." While Stiles get's ready Derek dumps their dishes into the sink and rises them. When Derek is ready to slip on his own shoes Stiles is already waiting patiently by the door, his collection bucket in hand. It's just an orange plastic bucket but some of the volunteers painted the charity's name on the side. Derek has a red one.  
All said and done, Derek and Stiles made the best team for collection. Stiles himself was eager and adorable. Almost everyone recognized him as the Sheriff's son and as a member of the local wolf pack. And for those who's pockets were tight for pleading Little's, Derek's stern face usually broke them down. Together they'd collected enough to nearly overflow their buckets. Derek ended up carrying them both while Stiles skipped ahead and kicked at piles of leaves.

The car was parked a couple of blocks over. Strictly speaking they were suppose to head immediately to the Sheriff's station to hand over the money but Stiles had worked very hard. He swindled more than one person out of a twenty. Derek figured they could spare a few minutes to stop by and get some ice cream. Stiles was probably the least likely to try and gorge himself on candy tonight. He didn't like sex on a full stomach.

Stiles reaches the car first. When he spots it he starts off in a lope, not quite skipping to it. He manages to trip at the last minute and stumbles into the door with a loud smack. But he'd caught himself with his hands so no tears. Small miracles. "Daddy we gonna see my Papa now?"

Derek smiles and takes his time getting to the car. Stiles practically vibrates with excitement in front of him. "Maybe."

Stiles tilts his head to the side. "Maybe? We gots to give him the money though." He pulls away from the car and crosses his arms over his chest. "We're not thieves Daddy."

Derek snorts and holds out his arm for Stiles to take one bucket. He wiggles his wrist, waiting for Stiles to take it. Instead Stiles hops forward and shoves his hand into his Daddy's pocket and tugs out the keys. "Stiles."

His little boy giggles and races around to the drivers side to unlock the door. Then instead of heading to the other side he scrambles over the driver's seat and into the passengers. He has been feeling a little older today, night time wetting aside, and Derek thinks he's alright to sit in the front for now. He opens the back door with a finger and sets the collection buckets on the ground. Before straightening out he sticks his finger under the headrest and pokes Stiles in the neck. It pulls a startled yip from him.

"You'd better behave."

Stiles twists around and curls his fingers over the headrest. "I will Daddy. I'mma be so good today." Stiles turns back around and clicks on his seatbelt, wearing an intense look of concentration. "So good." Stiles nods to himself and settles in to wait for his Daddy to come around.

Beside him Derek struggles to keep in his amusement. He's not sure what Stiles has going on in his head but it's sure to be ridiculous. He's probably angling for something special when they go to bed. So Derek keeps quiet about their little detour, taking side roads to the Dairy Queen instead of the usual route. It isn't until they get a block away that Stiles seems to notice where they are. Derek can sense the change in the air. Stiles draws up straight, straining against his seatbelt to get a better look at the Dairy Queen sign quickly coming closer.

Derek can tell without looking that he's chewing on his lips to keep from asking if they're turning in. When Derek changes lanes and turns into the parking lot Stiles flings his hands out in joy, hitting the dash and the window in his excitement. The sting does nothing to damper his excitement.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy's gettin' me ice cream?" Stiles turns and holds his hands up, fingers curled like he wants to grab onto Derek's sweater. "You gettin' me ice cream on Halloween?" He sounds like he's going to cry. Derek can't help it. He chuffs once then starts laughing. He slows the car to a near crawl to keep from crashing into anything while his eyes shut with laughter. "Daddy! Ice cream is serious business!"

Derek sits up straighter and takes a few deep breaths. A few more gaufs of laughter escape but he manages to calm himself. "Hm, very serious." Derek makes sure he's in the drive through lane and turns his head to look at Stiles. "You were a great helper today so you can have one thing." Derek reaches across and ruffles Stiles' hair. "One treat."

"'Kay Daddy." Stiles bounces his leg and starts humming. It sounds like something Scott listens to. Derek already knows what Stiles is going to get. If he hadn't already had his pumpkin themed blow out this year he might have a decision ahead of him. But since pumpkin is on Stiles' no list right now he's going to get what he always gets at Dairy Queen. Vanilla soft serve with liquid marshmallow topping. And sure enough when they get to the menu board Stiles' flings his arm across the console to point out what he wants. A vanilla soft serve in a cup with marshmallow topping, no nuts. "Make sure no nuts Daddy. But I can get extra marshmallow maybe?"

Derek tips his head and pretends to ponder it. "I don't know. Extra sounds like a lot." Stiles jerks against the seatbelt to get closer to his Daddy. His face is wild with want and eager hope.

"But I'm bein' good Daddy! An', an' I won't even have more than ONE," Stiles holds up one finger and thrusts it in his Daddy's face, "piece of candy tonight. I swears. Really!"

The speaker flares to life and Derek turns away, blatantly ignoring Stiles' still waving finger. "Yes, I'd like one strawberry cheesecake blizzard, small. And one marshmallow sundae."

"Okay, I've got one strawberry cheesecake blizzard and one marshmallow sundae? Any nuts or drinks?"

"No." For a split second Stiles seems to wilt and Derek can't let it drag out any longer. He's a push over really. "But can I get extra marshmallow topping please?"

"Of course. Your total will be $8.20 please pull around to the window."

Derek pulls the car forward and waits until they're at the window to look over at Stiles. His little boy is grinning from ear to ear. Derek gets the distinct feeling that he's being played but he lets it go. As a kid only a very firm and direct Alpha command could keep him from binge eating candy during Halloween. Werewolf genetics do not negate tummy aches. "You can eat in the car, but don't make a mess okay."

"'Kay Daddy." Stiles rocks in his seat while Derek pays and gets their ice cream. He barely waits for his Daddy to stretch out his arm before he's grabbing his ice cream. If it weren't for the lid the ice cream would have already sloshed onto the console between them.

Derek tucks his blizzard into his cup-holder and starts towards the Sheriff's Station. By the time they pull into the parking lot Stiles is nearly done with his sundae and there's sticky marshmallow creme on his cheeks and chin. Thankfully his fingers are clean. When they park Derek reaches into the glovebox and pulls out a packet of wetnaps then grabs his blizzard and gets out. Stiles follows, loudly clambering out and tearing up the pathway into the station.

The deputy behind the desk smiles and waves them through. Derek follows more slowly, taking a few bites of his ice cream. "Make sure you knock Stiles."

Stiles skids to an abrupt stop, his sneakers making a loud squeak on the tile. "I will! I'm so good today." Stiles says it like he's offended by the very idea of naughtiness. Derek really wants to know what he's angling for. It obviously isn't more candy. He catches up with Stiles, keeping a hand at the ready. He's not ready to deal with a spilled ice cream tantrum. But Stiles keeps a firm grip, even as he knocks on his father's door.

As soon as they hear the muffled come in Stiles throws open the door and tears into the office. He starts babbling immediately. "I was such a good helper. And we got so much. Me and Daddy were the bestest team out there. I know it. Because I'm awesome duh, and Daddy is Daddy. And his scary face helped. But I'm so awesome people were like whoa and gave more. And I did so good Daddy took me for ice cream. AND he let me have extra marshmallows because he's the bestest Daddy." He thrusts out what's left of his sundae for his father to see. Then he's off and babbling again. Years of practice have let Skylar take it all in stride. He knows when to nod along and when to make a noise.

With Stiles' focused on something other than his ice cream Derek sets his aside and moves in. He deftly opens the wet nap and smooths it over Stiles' still moving mouth. He completely ignores the indignant sputters he gets and starts rubbing away the sticky mess on his face. When he's done Stiles screws up his face like he wants to stick out his tongue. A well placed eyebrow has him reconsidering. And just like that the indignity is forgotten and Stiles goes back to telling his father about his day.

Leaving Stiles under the watchful eye of his father, Derek heads back out to the car to collect the buckets. When he'd come on he'd spotted the heavily decorated fishtank that held the donations. A few of the volunteers had obviously gone in the early morning. When he held up his buckets to show the deputy behind the desk she whistled.

"Did you threaten people to get that change?"

"Not verbally." His deadpan delivery pulled a few chuckles out of the deputy. He smirked at her while he tipped the buckets in. He was proud to admit that his and Stiles' contributions added a decent layer of silver to the heavy mounds of pennies coating the bottom of the fishtank. The bills got buried under heaps of change but Derek wasn't worried. He was absolutely positive that Stiles was making sure his father knew exactly how much they'd managed to collect. When he's done he slides the buckets over to the deputy and goes to rescue Skylar from his son.

Just as he expected Stiles is still going on with no signs of stopping. He's less frantic now, talking more about what he wants to do in November rather than his candy plans. Derek sits next to him and finally digs into his blizzard.

"Any special plans for Thanksgiving?"

Derek raises his eyebrows and slowly pulls the spoon from his mouth. Skylar and Stiles stare at him while he tries to unstick a wad of cheesecakes from the roof of his mouth. "Just the usual. We'll probably do something on the lawn. Turkey and venison. Issac and his Alpha, Kali, might come."

"She has a little right?"

Stiles nods. "Julia."

Derek tips his head in agreement. Just as he's about to take another bite Skylar furrows his brow. "Don't they want to spend Thanksgiving with their own pack?"

"Kali's pack is more independent. They live in separate houses and have their own family's. She took on a lot of bitten and relocated. Christmas and Independence day are more their thing."

Skylar nods and leans back in his chair. "I don't suppose I'm allowed to have any venison." He's looking directly at Stiles. Who despite being a Little and out of the house, has maintained a firm hand on his father's diet. Derek isn't entirely sure his own mother isn't in on it, complete with a network of spies. He has his suspicious, mostly that she finds it funny to undermine the Sheriff's every attempt to get a greasy cheeseburger. But as her son and Beta it's not his place to ask.

Stiles stares him down. "One piece. Just one. It's a turkey day Papa."

"Cranberry sauce?" Derek watches as Skylar leans forward and braces his elbows on the table. He looks like he's negotiating terms with an enemy, not hashing out his cheat food allowance. Derek leaves them to it and finishes up his ice cream. It's nearly all melted now but the cheesecake is worth it.

When Skylar manages to rangle promised two slices of pie, so long as one is sweet potato, Derek takes it as their cue to leave. He pitches his cup into the trash and urges Stiles up. "Say goodbye. We'll see him later." Stiles grumbles, obviously displeased with the negotiations, but rounds the desk to hug his father.

"Bye Papa."

"Bye Stiles. Come see me tonight okay." The Sheriff rubs his hand up and down Stiles' back.

"I will." Stiles pulls away and waves goodbye, then follows as Derek leads the way out. He lets Derek buckle him into the backseat and doesn't protest when his Daddy puts on the soft music CD instead of the happy car mix. By the time they pass back by the Dairy Queen Stiles is asleep. Derek checks on him in the mirror. His head is lolled back and his mouth is open, dripping drool down on his cheek and neck. Stiles is many things but not a beautiful sleeper. Derek loves it, every awkward, moist, bit of it.

At the house Derek gets out of the car carefully, gently shutting his own door and easing open Stiles'. By now Derek is an expert at easing Stiles out of his seatbelt. He always comes easily. Sleep makes him pliant and it's almost impossible to wake him from a nap so long as he feels Derek's hands. He's able to tip Stiles forward and to the side. It's still a task to get his lanky body out of the car but with a little urging Stiles sleepily wraps his arms and legs around Derek. He clings lazily and tucks his damp cheek close to his Daddy's neck.

The kids are due home from school any minute now and Derek wants him inside before that happens. It's easier to get him into his nap time pull up if there aren't curious cubs stomping through the halls. It's easy enough to get him inside. Malia is home, Kira's curled up on the couch. They turn the volume down on their movie and watch him carry Stiles upstairs. Their door is open and it smells like Kira's been through. She's probably the one who laid out the pull up.

To get Stiles onto the bed he has to hunch himself over, almost in a squat. Stiles just doesn't want to let go. Every time his back so much as grazes the bedspread he clings desperately to Derek's neck. Finally having enough Derek bends over and lays down on top of Stiles. For a second he lets himself sink in. The comforting weight of him has Stiles easing up enough for Derek to pull away.

As always Stiles is eager to get off his jeans. He doesn't lift his hips but he does kick halfheartedly to get the denim off his ankles. His shoes are already in a heap. Derek slides his hand up to Stiles' knee and runs his knuckle along the arch of his foot, drawing a sleepy huff and a toe wiggle from him. Derek smiles and dips down to kiss his calf. Once Stiles is good and relaxed he tugs down his underwear and sets it aside with the jeans.

The pull up is a struggle. They don't always use it for nap time but since he'd had an accident the night before it's best to just do it. Derek nearly faceplants into Stiles' belly getting it up the last inch. Derek flicks his eyes up to Stiles' face and sees a small smirk there. In retaliation he nips at his bellybutton before pulling away. Stiles curls up on his side and starts rubbing his feet together. His fingers gravitate to his mouth. Derek sighs and strips out of his jeans before plucking a pacifier up from the night stand. He deftly pulls the fingers away and slips the pacifier in with a single hand. Derek slips into bed behind Stiles, curling around him and tucking his chin into the back of his neck.

It's a shotgun blast that wakes them up. Not a real one of course. It sounds like "Army of Darkness". Derek groans and hitches his leg up to cover Stiles' hip. He's still asleep; no werewolf ears to disturb him. Derek rubs his calf across Stiles' legs and snuffles sleepily into his neck. The room smells clean, a little sweet. There's probably marshmallow on Stiles' shirt somewhere. He doesn't want to get up. He just wants to tuck himself into Stiles and stay in bed for the rest of the night. He'll buy him a whole grocery cart of candy. He'll blow him. He'll let Stiles call him Wolverine in bed.

Stiles huffs and smacks his lips together. Derek smiles and runs his nose back and forth across Stiles' nape. But Stiles worked hard on his costume and he did manage to wrangle all of his friends for a themed costume. It would be a shame to let that go to waste. Even if the sex would be amazing. "Stiles." He draws out the whisper of his name, trying to tease him awake. "Stiles, time to wake up." He pulls his head up and nips playfully at Stiles' earlobe.

He wakes with a squawk. His hand flies up to slap Derek in the face but he swiftly avoids it. "Daddy, no." Stiles curls up like a pillbug and tries to squirm away to the edge of the mattress. Derek let's him go and waits. He can pinpoint the exact moment Stiles realizes which day it is. He shoots up, his whole body taught with excitement. Derek hears him whisper "Halloween." Derek snorts and rolls off the bed, swooping down to pluck up his pants. Behind him Stiles is scrambling around to yank on his pants.

By the time Derek is buttoning up his pants Stiles is shooting out of the room and stampeding up into the play room. His costume is up there, lovingly placed in a clear garment bag by Lydia. He doesn't bother following him up. Instead he goes downstairs to watch the rest of "Army of Darkness" with Malia and Kira.

When Talia called for dinner the tension in the house was palpable. The kids looked like they were ten seconds away from eating each other to get it over with. They were having grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. Healthy, quick, and easy to whips up seconds. Derek poured a bowl for Stiles and added a scoop of sour cream to it. He was still upstairs, probably staring down his costume.

Upstairs Stiles is in fact staring at his costume. He's sitting cross legged on the floor in front of it. His fingers and thumbs are pressed together and supporting his chin. Loki was an interesting choice. Stiles had originally meant to do something more playful. Loki was serious business. You couldn't just throw on a green skirt and call it a day. Loki was a classy lady. And Stiles wanted it to seem real. So he let Lydia take the reigns and the end product was a lot more elegant, a lot more womanly, than he'd ever imagined. Stiles wouldn't be a Little in a skirt tonight, he'd look like a lady. Well, more like a lady than he ever before, feminine.

It was a little scary. He didn't want to walk up and down his old streets and give the wrong impression. He wasn't a girl. He didn't want to be one. But Loki has to be done right. Stiles hasn't worried about his gender identity for a while. Not since his Daddy had given him a skirt and told him he was fine the way he was. Stiles nodded and stood in front of his costume. It looked amazing. It was fitted to his body. Lydia had worked hard on the draping of the high low skirt. But Stiles knew she'd given equal care to the top. It was black, lined with gold, and it was fitted to him. There weren't fancy darts or folds to give him the illusion of breasts. It just fit him nice. Tailored.

"Time for dinner cub." Stiles spun on his heel. His Daddy was in the doorway. A sippy cup was in his hand.

"I'm commin' Daddy." He looks one last time at his costume then skips away. He happily takes the sippy cup and slips his hand into his Daddy's. "I have to take a shower before costume?"

"A quick one. Everyone else had theirs already." Derek guides them to the table and digs in. Just as he'd thought the kids are wolfing down their food so quick it's a wonder they don't swallow their spoons too. Stiles is no better. He shoves so much of his sandwich in his mouth his cheeks bulge out like a chipmunks. "Careful." Derek rests his hand on Stiles' wrist to keep him from taking another bite.

Stiles purses his lips around his mouthful then starts chewing furiously. Derek keeps a close ear on him, ready to preform the Heimlich at a moments notice. Thankfully it's not necessary. Dinner finishes in record time with zero casualties. Although Kira looks distinctly winded. Meals with the Hale pack can do that to a person.

With trick or treating looming over his head, Stiles was the first to clear away his plate and run to the bathroom. He just barely beat Colt, who was going as Gene Simmons and very much wanted the bathroom mirror to apply his makeup. Derek passed by his little brother with an apologetic shrug and slipped into the bathroom to help Stiles shower.

They got through it with minimal fuss, but like any time they shared a shower, Stiles got a little distracted by washing his Daddy. This time he fixates on the thick trail of hair leading down from his bellybutton. Derek lets himself relax while Stiles whirls his soapy fingers in his hair and hums. If it weren't for Colt loudly complaining outside the bathroom door, he would have stayed there forever. "Come on cub. Let's get you dressed." He leans across Stiles and shuts off the water, then holds onto Stiles' upper arm to help him get out.

Stiles walks on his toes to the sink then lands back on his feet with a wet smack. "I forgot my costume." Stiles twists his face up in anger and glares at the door. "What now?" He spins, catches himself on the sink, and looks pleadingly at his Daddy. "Daddy what do I do?"

For this very reason Derek tries to keep a pair of sweatpants in the linen closet. "Daddy's got it." He pulls a towel from the rack and throws it over Stiles' head. He scrubs, tousling his hair and sending Stiles' forward into him. He clings and giggles while Derek vigorously works the towel over his wet hair and skin. Once he's dry Derek reaches around and pinches his butt, sending him squealing and running to the toilet to sit and hide. With Stiles safely put Derek dries himself off and tugs on his old jeans. And just as he thought, in the closet there's a pair of fluffy sleep pants. He holds them out for Stiles to take.

"Come on, we can take a half naked walk to the room." Stiles pouts but pulls on the sleep pants anyways. Derek takes his hand and pulls him out of the bathroom. Colt isn't the only one waiting on the other side. Maisy and Mitch are there too. The three of them have obviously lost the battle for the various other mirrors around the house. Laura has a full length one in her room with a gaudy faux wrought iron frame. She was probably in there wrestling Bher into his costume.

Their bedroom door was open, and Derek led him inside by a hand at the small of his back. "Underwear." He points to their dresser. "I'll be right back." Derek hurries up to the playroom. Stiles has been patient thus far but that has worn thin. No need to torture him any longer. He plucks up the garment bag and takes a second to admire it. He'd never seen the full thing on Stiles. He and Lydia wanted it to be a surprise. Derek had only been able to catch glimpses while Lydia tailored and each time he was swiftly shooed away.  
He takes the costume to their room. Stiles is holding his helmet, perched on the very edge of the bed. The second he spots his Daddy he springs up and races forward to get his costume. Derek barely has the time to close the door before he's stripping off his sleep pants. "Let me help." Derek takes hold of Stiles' wrist to still him, then unzips the bag and pulls the costume free. Stiles lets the bag drop to the floor and seizes the costume.

"Costume! I'm gonna look so cool!" Stiles pulls on his skirt first. Despite his eagerness he takes care to smooth and adjust it until it sits perfectly on his hips. He smooths down it's front and snaps is hips a few times, enjoying the feel of the silk swooshing around his thighs. Then he pulls on his top. It's a high neck black sleeveless shirt. There's a few black leather pieces sewn on to look like belts but they don't go around the back. They're all for show. To go on top was a black fitted coat, almost like a blazer. It was lined in gold and there were dark green stitches here and there to tie it in. It was by far the fanciest thing Stiles had ever worn. He was a little worried it was wasted on just Halloween.

The coat was last. Stiles slipped it on and rolled his shoulders to make it sit right. Before he could fuss too much his Daddy stepped over and started smoothing his lapels. "Thank you Daddy."

"You're welcome cub." Once he's done straightening the coat Derek cups his hands around Stiles' neck and brushes his thumbs across the hinges of his jaw. He smiles and dips his head to brush his nose against Stiles'. "Are we going to have fun tonight?"

Stiles nods resolutely, his nose bopping harshly against his Daddy's. "So much fun. The most fun." He swoops in for a quick kiss then skips away to put on his shoes. They're black rain boots. Lydia had campaigned for something more sleek and womanly but Stiles wanted his rain boots. There was a little green stripe at the top. They matched. Stiles was in such a hurry he almost forgot socks. If his Daddy hadn't thrown a pair at the back of his head he would have been squelching around in an hour.

"What should Wolverine wear?" Derek throws his head over his shoulder and tries to catch Stiles' attention. He knows exactly what he's going to be wearing tonight. Stiles has told him at least once a week, in great detail, what outfit Derek is suppose to wear. A tank top, a red flannel, his leather jacket, and a pair of sturdy medium wash jeans. He went out and bought some tan work boots to complete it. And he was going to wander around in his beta shift. For the sideburns. Stiles had been very specific about the sideburns.  
Just as he expected, Stiles shot up and glared at him. "Daddy! You're gonna wear Wolverine clothes. We talked Daddy. We talked." He gets up and stomps over to the dresser, pushing past his Daddy, and pulls out the flannel he wants. "Talked so much." Stiles huffs and shoves the shirt at his chest. "Get dressed Daddy! Scott's comin' soon."

Eager little fingers tug at his jeans and pluck at the shirts. It takes no time at all for Derek to get dressed entirely. He even slides into his beta shift. Then Stiles snatches up his helmet and slides it on. The two of them go downstairs, hand in hand. Bher is still nowhere in sight but the other kids are ready. Colt is wearing the most elaborate costume, although he's nixed the platform shoes for a pair of converse. He wants to walk until the weight of his candy bag threatens to break his wrist. An ambitious Hale Halloween tradition.

Maisy is wearing a little nurses uniform. Her candy bag is actually a red cooler. Her mother helped her paint 'Organ Transplant' on the side. Jarett is a strip of bacon. He's going through that phase where he's still excited about trick or treating, but he doesn't want to look like it. So he chose the most uninvolved costume he could while still dressing up. Elias though, still has the joy. He's in Beetlejuice feetie pajamas. He'd painted the green disease stippling on his face himself.

Stiles dives right into the madness, bouncing on his toes and chattering excitedly with everyone else. Derek stands at the base of the stairs and crosses his arms. Malia and Cora are upstairs. By the sounds they're making, they're way past getting into their costumes and are well on their way to getting out of them again. Derek catches his mother's eye and tips his head up. Talia smirks.

"I'll go get them. Take the kids outside before they burst."

Derek steps back for her to head upstairs. He almost wishes he could stay behind and listen in but she's right about the kids. Stiles alone is practically vibrating where he stands. "Come one, everyone out." Derek sweeps his hands towards the door, gesturing them all out. There's a mad dash to be the first out on the lawn. Maisy pulls ahead because she's small and unassuming. Stiles is content to lope around, running circles around his pack.

From the porch Derek watches them all. It's nice. October has always been his favorite month. It's the right amount of cool for him to dress how he wants without suffering. There's a greater sense of family and pack in the air. And it's a time of change. Derek has always been sensitive to it. Even more now that he's with Stiles. There's magic in the seasons. He takes a deep breath. It smells like adrenaline and dead leaves. Some things never change.

* * *

The best thing about trick or treating in the Sheriff's neighborhood was that they'd seen it all. As Skylar had been, the community around him had been completely desensitized to Stiles. Derek had prepared himself for the possibility that someone new had moved in along their route, or that someone would be drunk, and they'd make a comment about Stiles being a pretty little girl. He was pleasantly surprised when that didn't happen. He wasn't sure if a Deputy had come by to warn everyone or if this neighborhood was just full of people ready to roll with it.

Their group gets a lot of applause and a few pictures. Stiles gets handfuls and handfuls of candy. By the end of the night Derek is immensely grateful that the rest of his family went to the party. He's already carrying Stiles' first candy bag and Lydia's. Scott and Allison are leaning heavily on each other, digging through each other's bags and swapping candies already. From behind Scott looks particularly ridiculous. In order to make his Black Widow costume he ordered a wet suit online and modified it with a carpenter's belt. Allison had been particularly appreciative. Derek not so much. There were things a Dom did not need to know about his sub's brother.

Together they herded themselves around the corner that would loop them back to the Sheriff's. He'd been their first stop. Skylar had dressed himself like a scarecrow and set himself up on the porch with a beer and a radio. The street was still alive with kids but it was winding down for the younger crowd. "I think it's time to call it a night." Derek slid Lydia's bag into his left hand with Stiles' and pulled Stiles to his side.

The Loki helmet had long since come off. Malia was wearing now. So Derek was free to press a kiss to Stiles' sweaty temple. "Did you have fun?"

"So much fun Daddy." Stiles sighed and curled into his Daddy's side. He slumped in walked at an angle, keeping as much contact between them as possible. His rain boots were fun, but not made for walking. He was plenty ready to go home. He yawned and tucked his face into his Daddy's shoulder. He let Derek lead him back to his father's house.

The Sheriff was inside now, but still in costume. Derek lead Stiles up to the door and rang the bell so they could say goodnight. Most of the group had already broken away, giving cheerful goodbye's and kissing Stiles on the cheek. Scott and Allison were hanging back though. Skylar answered the door, bowl in hand, and smiled softly when he saw who was on his porch.

He set the bowl aside and stepped outside to take Stiles. He came limply, sliding from his Daddy's side to his father's chest. The two of them hugged and talked softly to each other. Stiles mentioned the haunted house on Garner and Skylar said he saw a little boy dressed as a rubix cube. Finally Skylar pulled back and turned Stiles back to Derek. Then Scott stepped up to say goodnight to the Sheriff and Derek went to his car.

He tossed the candy in the back and helped Stiles into the front. The cold leather seat seemed to jolt him awake. "The house is empty Daddy?" Stiles was leaning out of the still open door to peer eagerly up at his Daddy. Derek watched the wicked grin work its way onto his face.

He matched him with a smirk of his own. "It's empty. Just you and me cub."

"It's time to go home now Daddy. Like right now." Stiles righted himself and pulled the door shut. As Derek walked around to get into his side Stiles' eyes tracked him like prey. The drive home seemed to take forever. More than once the car slowed to a crawl as kids meandered through the streets in hordes. Derek was grateful for his enhanced vision. More than one teenager clad in all black had darted across the street at the last second.

Seeing the turn in for the preserve had never been such a blessing. Derek would never speed with Stiles in the car, but it was a near thing. The closer they got to the house the more worked up Stiles got. The distraction was nearly enough to drive him off the road. When their driveway came into view Stiles actually squealed. "Daddy! Daddy I wanna do somethin' in my skirt."

Derek was very glad he'd already rolled to a stop or he would have slammed on the brakes. Stiles' blunt nature had always extended to his wants in the bedroom. But it still never failed to take Derek by surprise. "Inside." Derek throws open his door and runs to the door to get it unlocked. The sound of Stiles' excited sprint is close behind. Then there's giggling. Honest to God, I'm up to something giggling.

Derek growls down at his slow fingers and wills the door to just open already. The door swings open and Stiles ducks under Derek's arm to race inside. Derek is left chasing after the sound of his laughter and thudding feet. He takes a second at the top of the stairs to compose himself. His fingers curl tight around the railing and he let's himself breathe. The smell of Stiles isn't too thick yet. They haven't started so it's no surprise. But it's an undercurrent. The tang of his excitement and arousal is a wisp buried under the smell of tomatoes and grease paint.

"You comin' Daddy?" Stiles is such a little shit. It's the Brat in him. It makes Derek's face warm and his stomach flip. He gives out a growl and comes into the room with a snarl. Stiles isn't impressed at all. He raises an eyebrow and cock's his hip like he thinks Derek is the unreasonable one. "Not scary Daddy."

"No?" Derek stalks forward, face shifted, and seizes Stiles by his sides, lifting him up and spinning him in a circle. After setting Stiles back down he pressed his forehead to Stiles'. "Not at all?"

"Nope." Stiles laughs and pulls away. Derek let's him go, his fingers trailing the fabric of the skirt. Stiles wanted to do something in that skirt.

"What do you want cub?"

Stiles tips his head to the side and smirks. "I don't know." The teasing lit to his voice is nowhere near innocent. It's like he's not even trying. So Derek shows him up. He drops to his knees, coming down hard right in front of Stiles who's sitting on the edge of the bed. He braces his palms on Stiles' knees, letting his fingers skim just under the hem. It's enough to quiet Stiles. His face is curious now, soft and sweet. "Daddy?"

Derek lets his face shift out of the beta form and ducks forward to nuzzle against Stiles' belly. He licks and nips at the soft skin there. Stiles' squirms and gasps. His fingers eagerly tangle into his Daddy's hair. The air around them gets thick and hot. The smell of Stiles' arousal is unmistakable now, if the feel of it weren't enough.

Derek pulls back and pushes his hands farther under Stiles' skirt. For a second he rubs the skin of his thighs, pulling shivers and needy whines from Stiles. Derek stretches up and steals a kiss. Stiles lips are soft and wet. He tastes like Twizzlers. They trade a few more kisses, sucking longer and harder at each others lips with each pass until Derek has to tear himself away. It tears a whine from Stiles but Derek doesn't pay it any mind. He has something even better planned.

He slides his knees back farther and hooks his fingers into Stiles' underwear. "Up." Stiles is eager to comply, nearly throwing himself backwards to help. Derek shushes him and pulls the underwear down slowly until they fall at his ankles. "I've got you." Derek ducks down and takes Stiles into his mouth. He takes his time, bobbing his head slowly and dragging out the suction. The skirt over his head isn't enough to muffle the noises spilling from Stiles' mouth. He's gasping and panting. His fingers are scrabbling uselessly over the silk on Derek's head. His feet are arched up so only his toes are bracing on the floor.

Derek keeps his pace slow and steady. The two of them so rarely get the house to themselves at night. Tonight they can take their time. Derek works his jaw, taking in as much as he can. Under his palms he can feel Stiles' thighs start to tremble. The small shiver and quake is like a countdown. Derek lets a growl rumble through his chest. The effect is instant. Stiles goes from soft gasps and little hitched breaths to a long, loud groan. Despite the frantic clawing at his head Derek keeps pace.

He pulls back to the tip and sucks. Stiles can't see anything but skirt. And that's hazy at best but he knows. He knows Derek's cheeks are hollow and his eyebrows are furrowed like he's concentrating on something very important. It's amazing. It's also what Stiles likes to call a finisher. In his head. Because Derek would never do it again if he said it out loud.

He pulls his legs up and cradles his Daddy's face in his thighs. The second he comes he's quiet. There's just no air left in his lungs. He wasted it all leading up. When his breath comes back his whole body goes limp. Stiles' legs drop, his feet smacking loudly on the floor, and his body hits the bed the same. In front of him Derek pulls back. His hair is a frizzed mess and his cheeks are pink. Stiles watches him with hooded eyes. He'll get his second wind. It won't take much, not when he knows the house is theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bher was a Hershey Kiss and he dares you to make fun of him.


	31. All I Want for Christmas

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Derek sighed and shuffled into his bedroom. He was way past ready for bed and he hadn't even given Stiles his shower yet. Stiles is bouncing on the bed, windmilling his arms around to keep his balance. His bright red skirt is twirling around his legs and getting caught between his legs. Derek's not going to yell. Strictly speaking they don't have a rule against jumping on the bed. He'd thought Stiles had the sense not to. And yet.

He swoops in close and hooks his arm around the crook of Stiles' knees. He falls to his butt in a peel of laughter, his skirt flying up to show his candy cane boxers. Stiles generally looks like a toddler who's dressed himself but as Christmas draws closer he's beginning to look more and more like a toddler elf. He borrowed a pair of Lydia's gold leggings two days ago. Derek slides his arm from under Stiles' legs and drops his palm down on Stiles' thigh. He starts rubbing small circles over the thick stocking there. He just wants to take a bath and go to bed.

"What were you doing cub?"

"Jumpin' on the bed."

Derek hums and crawls up onto the bed, pressing Stiles onto the bed, half crushing him. He ignores Stiles' squawk and starts rubbing his nose in his hair. It smells like a glue stick. "Why were you jumpin' on the bed cub?"

"Havin' fun Daddy." Stiles digs his bony fingers into Derek's bicep and starts kneading the skin there. "Hey Daddy?"

"Hm?" Derek takes a deep breath and blows it out over the shell of his ear. He smirks at the little shiver that runs through Stiles.

"Did you ever believe in Santa?"

"No." As a kid it's harder to determine fluctuations in heartbeat. And what that means. But it's not hard to listen in as parents constantly reassure their kids that Santa is real. Then hear the stutters and sometimes a spike of anxiety. By the time he was old enough to understand the concept of Santa, he was already a non-believer. "But I still liked him. Santa was fun."

"Still fun Daddy?"

"Still fun." And it is. He was a caregiver at heart. It was in his nature. But seeing his little brother and his cousins marvel at Christmas was nothing compared to seeing the delight on Stiles face. Because Stiles was his. Derek throws his leg over Stiles' hips and presses a sloppy wet kiss to Stiles' temple. "So what do you want for Christmas?"

"You already got my presents Daddy."

"Maybe I didn't. Maybe all of those boxes are empty."

Stiles kicks out his feet and huffs. "Nu-uh, I shook them. I heard stuff."

"Rocks."

"Liar." Stiles giggles and tries to throw himself to the side, into his Daddy. He manages half a twist, but his skirt stays in place. It twists up under his Daddy's leg and catches his cotton stockings. "I don't know. Coloring stuff."

"Yeah? Nothing else?"

"Well..." Stiles draws out the word like he's angling for something grand. Derek almost snorts at the sound of it. Stiles gives him a soft bite of the bicep in retaliation. "I do want somethin'." Stiles walks two fingers up Derek's arm and when he reaches his neck, he prods them in. Drawing a soft playful growl from his Daddy. "I want a whole day. Just me and Daddy, camping."

Derek snorts. "Camping huh? I thought you didn't like camping."

"You like camping though." Stiles squirms away and cups his hand over his Daddy's cheek. "I wanna do somethin' you like to do."

Derek could let the moment linger. He could bask in the warm safe feeling of his Little wanting to please him. But he was a little bit of an ass, and he still wanted a bath. He wraps Stiles up tighter, tucking his head under his chin. "There's something you can do for Daddy now."

"Yeah?"

"Bath time." This time he does snort when Stiles tries to flail away. His little boy is no match for a werewolf on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, wow, it's been a while. First I got sucked into NaNo which I didn't get to finish because I had this whole Borderlands fusion thing going on and Pre-Sequel came out and completely wrecked my facts. Then I did a little thing for 12 Days of Sterek. Which will be up on the 22nd btw. So yeah...sorry about that.


	32. A Little Bubbly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a little of the 'Stiles not in his headspace' that everyone's been asking for. I plan on doing some more. This was just to dip into the waters so to speak.

A long standing argument in the Hale household is on the subject of alcohol. Most of the adults have no use for it and the others don't care for it. The kids, obviously, are a non-issue. Stiles does not feel that way. He's legally allowed to drink and he never has. He turned twenty-one loudly. It involved a lot of florescent pigment powder and rollerskates. And no alcohol. Not a drop. And Stiles let that go because he got some pretty great gifts. Including a lovely hotel room that he slept in with his Daddy. All alone, with no over sensitive ears.

Stiles could understand where his Daddy was coming from. Little boys didn't get drunk. Not Little boys, or Little Brat's, that spent most of their time in their headspace. It went against their nature so to speak. Kids don't drink. And Stiles definitely didn't want to be sloshed. Like ever. His dad, while amazing overall, had a serious bout of functional alcoholism after his mom died. Stiles didn't like who he was when he drank. He was a little afraid to find out what kind of drunk he was.

But a drink was not the same as getting drunk. And at twenty one Stiles felt like he deserved a chance to take a sip. Call it a life experience, whatever. More than once he'd been tempted to ask Lydia for a sip of her wine. He'd once seriously considered swiping a gulp of Scott's beer. They would have given it to him too. Lydia would have indulged him and whispered in his ear that it would be their little secret. Scott probably would have laughed and poured him his own little glass. Brothers do that. But Stiles never worked up the nerve.

That would be a serious breach of trust between him and his Daddy. Daddy didn't have a lot of rules. So the ones he had, he expected to be followed to the T. Even if he managed to sneak a sip and keep it a secret, just knowing he'd broken such a big rule would eat him up inside. Which put him here, the morning of New Year's Eve, scrolling through Facebook, absolutely sober for the foreseeable future.

He slides the laptop off onto the couch and draws his legs up, tucking his knees under his chin. All of his friends have plans. Lydia's throwing a party. Because that's what Lydia does. All of his high school friends are going to be there. They're going to wear black and glitter and silly hats. They're going to get absolutely trashed next to the pool and shoot off fireworks. And Stiles is going to be at home, in bed before midnight. He's Little. He likes being Little. But he's not little. He wants to stay up until one am and sing cheesy songs about the new year.

"Something eating you up?"

Stiles hums and buries his nose in his knees. Janice is leaning over the back of the couch. Her hair is a flyaway mess and she's wearing a summer dress even though it's still cold outside. Janice looks nothing like Malia's mother. Sometimes Stiles wonder's if that was a conscious decision or a coincidence. She's Egyptian, not an immigrant like Stiles' mother had been, but she's well traveled and very sweet. She's the only one in the pack besides Derek to have a tattoo. Janice doesn't drink because her sister was an alcoholic.

"Everyone else is havin' fun tonight."

"You're not? Who's leaving you out? Who does Auntie Janice need to yell at?" She rounds the couch and scoops the laptop onto her lap as she sits. For a second she scrolls through his feed, humming quietly to herself. "Ah, the big kids." She shuts the computer and sets it aside before pulling Stiles to lean against her. He goes willingly, melting into her side and digging his nose in her neck.

"I wanna have fun."

Janice starts combing her fingers through his hair. She doesn't have fake nails but hers are long and sturdy. She paints little flowers on them. "We're going to have fun. We've got party poppers and sparklers. Laura and Mitch went to pick out some good movies from Redbox. It's a little party."

Stiles huffs and kicks his one leg out. He let's his foot hit the floor and starts twisting it this way and that. Janice doesn't like drinking. He doesn't think she's going to be very sympathetic to his plight. "I wanna do something else."

"I'm sure if you asked your Daddy nicely he'd let you pick something to do." She ducks her head down and kisses him on his crown. "What do you want to do?"

Stiles twists his fingers into her dress and rubs a fold of it between his thumb and forefinger. It's a pretty champagne color. "I wanna...I want to have a drink." He lets out a deep breath and pulls his fingers off of her dress. He twists them in his lap instead. "I'm an adult. I want to do something adult for once. But I don't think--" Stiles cuts himself off. He hasn't called Derek anything but Daddy in ages. Even when he's not in his headspace the title sticks. Derek is his Daddy. Whether he feels Little or not.

"Did you ask?"

Stiles scoffs and pulls away. He slumps down on the couch and starts picking at his pants. "I ask all the time. He doesn't want me to drink."

"But you never really ask do you? Not seriously." Janice turns, putting her back to the armrest and pulling one folded leg up onto the couch. "You always ask like it's a joke. And always when you're feeling very Little or Bratty. Have you ever sat down with him and really talked to him about what you want?"

He wants to say yes. It's on the tip of his tongue. But honestly, they don't do that. Stiles is use to taking care of himself. Ever since he started courting his Daddy he'd had to adjust. He's on the worlds longest learning curve. Most of their revelations have been helped out by someone on the outside. Case in point, the skirts and Lydia. Stiles doesn't like the idea of talking it out. Not because he thinks Derek doesn't want to hear it. But because he just doesn't know what to say. It's easier to fall back into his headspace and hope it works out.

"No." Stiles takes a deep breath. "I don't want him to say no. I'm allowed to want things you know? I'm in my twenties. I'm allowed to have...adult urges, wants. I'm just worried. If I don't ask then the answer is already no but it's because I never really asked. But if I do ask and he says no I'm probably going to resent him for it. Just a little bit." Stiles groans and starts scratching over his scalp. Janice probably isn't who he should be talking to. She's the one person in the house is the most against alcohol. It must seem so stupid to her. Stiles honestly can't believe she's humoring him at all.

"I think...," Janice tips her head back and gestures lazily with her hand, "that Derek is worried for you. Not just about you. For you. I know your dad use to drink pretty heavily. Addiction works the same for them as it does for us. One sip might be enough to set you off. And if that's not the issue there's always your anxiety. I think Derek worries too much. He comes up with too many bad 'what ifs' that he forgets to relax." She tips her head forward again and waits for Stiles to catch her eye. "For instance, what if you take a sip and suddenly have a panic attack because it brings out some horrible memory."

"But it wasn't like that! Dad never hurt me! He just...drank a lot and got sad. He drank to sleep. Then he just...slept. He wasn't around. I don't want to get wasted. I want to share a glass of champagne with the love of my life on New Year's Eve."

"Regular or pink?"

Stiles jerks, his whole body seizing up so tight he almost falls right off the couch. Werewolves. Janice leaves, trailing her hand over his head as she goes. Then Derek is coming his way, stopping right in front of him. His arms aren't crossed but his body is tense. Stiles doesn't like it at all. "Daddy..." Stiles trails off. He really doesn't want to have this conversation using 'Derek' but he doesn't want to be brushed off either. He doesn't feel very Little right now at all. He covers his face with his hands and takes a deep breath. When he pulls them down he feels like he's peeled away a little of himself. "Can we talk?"

Derek slides onto the couch without a word. And he doesn't pull Stiles into his lap either. Stiles isn't sure he likes that at all. He's a little afraid to look him in the eye. Truthfully they've never had a real fight. Not one about their relationship. Oh there have been tantrums. So many tantrums. But no out and out adult fighting. Their relationship is the product of a healthy support system. A lot of their problems work themselves out before they need to intervene. Obviously this is not a trend that can continue indefinitely.

"Stiles...it's okay to talk to me as an equal. As an adult, anytime you need to. I don't want you to feel like I'm the type of Dom who demands--"

"I know. I know you're not like that. That's not...it's not just about the alcohol. I mean, it kind of is. It is today. But I there's other things, sometimes. Just sometimes." Stiles stops himself for a second to gather his thoughts. Needing to feel grounded, he pulls Derek's hand into his lap and holds it between his own. "I know that ever since Paige you've been worried about how you treat me. The sippy cups and pulls up, the binky's...I like that. I like those things a lot. I like how it makes me feel. I like that we can share that without me acting like I'm one and a half. There's no one way to be a Little or a Brat and usually what we do, that's good for me. That's it."

Stiles sniffles a little. God, when did he start tearing up? Is it that bad? He wipes his arm across his eyes and licks his lips. He just wants Derek to say something.

"I don't want you to be angry with me." Derek's chin is tucked down to his chest. For all of his scruff and muscles, he looks like an upset child. "I want to be with you. _Forever_. I try to do...I do everything I think I can to make you happy. To be a good Dom. A good Daddy. And sometimes that's hard because I'm not human. Because of the age difference. Because I messed up so bad before. I try to stay a step ahead and just give you what you need but--"

"I don't make it easy." Stiles smiles sadly and starts plucking at Derek's fingers. "I just feel like talking about it might break the spell. How long is the honeymoon period anyways?"

Derek tips his head, his mouth is open and he looks so sad. "Stiles. Stiles, no, it's--"

Stiles holds up his hand and slowly leans in for a kiss. It's soft and chaste. Derek tastes like tea. "I need to stop pushing everything off onto you. You're my Daddy. But you're also my Dom, my life partner. Fiance, whatever. You're the other half of me and I can't just take all the time. It may be in your nature to protect, but it's in mine to nurture. I just kind of suck at it."

"I think we're taking this different ways. You said it wasn't all about--"

"It's not. I mean, I do want to drink some champagne with you tonight. Even if I'm in my headspace, I think I deserve to share a glass with you." Stiles scoots closer and tucks himself to Derek's side. They can have a perfectly adult conversation right here, just like this. "I'm okay with not going to college. I don't regret that. There's no way I would have been able to work a regular course load and online is not for me. I'd never be able to focus. But I'm bored. Even with day care. It's...Julia is the only one there that's smart enough to really get what I'm talking about sometimes. But she's got nothing on Lydia. And Lydia's busy. I want...I need something to do."

"And as amazing as listening to your work is, I want something for myself. Maybe not a real job, but a project. Something. I need something to keep me busy when I'm not Little or I'm going to go crazy." Stiles turns his head and starts kissing along Derek's jaw. The hair pokes at his lips and leaves a pleasant little burn in it's wake. Stiles has always loved it. "I'm not saying I want to drop out of my headspace more. Or that when I'm out of it I'm not content to live by your 'Daddy' rules. I just need--"

"Breathing room?"

"Yeah. I think maybe I just need a little fix of adulthood every now and then."

Derek pulls his hand from Stiles' and brings it up to hold his face. For a second he lets himself look over Stiles' face. He takes in every mole and freckle, the swoop of his nose, the way is lips pout. Normally he'd kiss Stiles on the nose, over his eyelids, or on his forehead. Sometimes it's all four and Stiles is breathless and loose after it. But he's feeling more grown up this morning. A little more like when they first started. So he goes for a real kiss. It's sloppy and wet. Derek doesn't let go of Stiles' head, just cards his fingers back to cradle his skull.

Stiles sucks on his tongue like it's the best pacifier in the world. By the time they break apart Stiles is panting and pink cheeked. There's spit dribbling down both of their chins. It's nice. It's not very often they get to let go like this. They never want for intimacy, but sometimes passion can be hard in it's more innocent forms. You never know who's going to come by and ruin the moment.

"So...regular or pink?"

Stiles laughs and slumps forward, pressing his face into the middle of Derek's chest. He feels the laughter before he hears it. Stiles gives him a quick swat on the arm but pulls away smiling. "Something mediocre. Not top shelf, but not in a box."

"So you're looking for an authentic broke college kid experience?"

"Let's try broke newlyweds instead."

They'll need to talk some more. Stiles doesn't want to be one of those couples that dissolves their contract after a month. Derek doesn't want to make any more mistakes. But he's learning. His parents are still learning. It's a process. But tonight they can stay up late and share some champagne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Janice. Oh man, Janice. I have a whole back story for like every member of the Hale pack and I feel like I never get to work it in. And when I went back and re-read I realize I never described her or Peter's kids. But yeah, she's a California born Egyptian and she loves gardening. She's very chill and she had super curly hair. She backpacked a little in Europe and likes to smack Peter on the nose with rolled up papers when he's rude.


	33. Well I Like It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just something super short to hold you guys over.

"I need it."

"Sir--"

"I'm serious. I don't think I could look any more serious if I tried. It belongs to me."

"Sir, if you expect me to believe," the clerk shakes her hand, "this, belongs to you, you must think I'm an idiot."

Derek takes a step back from the desk and takes a deep breath. He rubs his palms over his face and scratches a little at his stubble. He and Stiles had gone shopping in the early morning. And somewhere along the way Stiles had lost his new favorite thing ever. It was a fleece blanket with a hideously obese cat printed on the front. It was wearing a bikini. Isaac got it for him for Christmas. For the past two weeks Stiles had refused to go anywhere without it. Before going out he folded and rolled it neatly so he could carry it around.

So caught up in 'helping' with the groceries Stiles hadn't noticed it was missing until it was time for his nap. Now Stiles was back at home, hysterical. He doesn't really have time to deal with burnt out sales clerks. Derek leans forward and braces his palms on the counter separating them. From the corner of his eye he sees the other clerk tense.

"Look, I can not fathom the work I would have to put into figuring out what kinds of blankets you have stashed in the lost in found. I can't imagine what type of person would randomly ask people if they have a fat cat blanket sitting in a box somewhere. I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm trying to get my Little's blanket so I can go home and get him in bed. It's way past nap time and if he keeps screaming I'm going to develop a deaf spot."

For a second he continues to stare down the clerk. The blanket is still in her hand, a hair away from skimming the ground. Finally the second clerk turns to the side and cocks a hip. "Just give him the blanket. It's lost and found, who cares."

"I do."

"Who cares if he's lying?" She waves her hand around and nods for the next customer to come forward. "Who else even wants that thing?"

The clerk holding the blanket huffs and grudgingly passes the blanket over the counter. Completely ignoring everyone behind him, Derek takes his time folding and rolling the blanket. He stares her down the whole time, stone faced. The blanket is hideous. There's no denying that. But it's soft and every fiber of it is drenched in Stiles' scent.

Satisfied that he's rubbed his point in enough Derek turns to leave. Just before the girls are out of ear shot he hears the clerk, "Maybe I wanted it okay." Derek tisks and hurries to the car. There's no telling how long Janice and Peter can keep Stiles occupied. The sooner he gets Stiles wrapped up in that hideous blanket, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like super duper short. Like way short. Like whoa. Cause I'm working a little on another Sterek thing that's not this and I hit a rush and got carried away.


	34. Hot Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly from the perspective of Mayor "Grandpa" Gavin. Just thought I'd change it up.

As an elected official there are things you must do to keep up appearances. Usually these are just appearances. Joining into a wolf pack has made Gavin a pro at rolling with the punches. A dinner with a couple of stuffy representatives is nothing compared to a meal shared with a set of disgruntled wolves. Laura's formidable teenage years are the sole reason for his grays. And he will stand by that until he's full silver.

In his time he's seen a great deal of things. A great, great, number of many things that have raised the bar for shock so high he sometimes doubts he'll ever experience it again. Which is why he tries not to make predictions about his life.

By and large, Beacon Hills is considered a beacon. Quite literally, due to it's healthy and thriving Nemeton. There are other towns with their own and they experience similar mass influxes of supernatural beings. It just so happens that they happen to have a Nemeton close enough to a beach and downtown L.A. that it's considered a go to destination. Normally the county wouldn't bat an eye at a new supernatural coming into town.

Normally Gavin Hale didn't find himself face to face with an honest to god dragon. Contrary to popular belief dragons did not share their wealth. They have hoards for a reason. They're selfish, greedy, overly satisfied creatures and honestly Gavin can't stand them. They remind him too much of Duke. Which is why God is laughing at him somewhere up there. He has a dinner date with a dragon and no way out. There will be cameras and sponsors. His only saving grace is that Skylar will be attending too. As the Sheriff he gets stuck in the same circle of party appearances and ass kissing events.

Gavin takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe if he asks nicely Talia will knock him unconscious for the rest of the week. He groans and rubs over his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The dragon, Raim, had waltzed into his office and demanded a press conference. He wanted to bring attention to the lack of cross species adoption. It was all very legal for humans to adopt supernaturals and vice versa, but families tended to pick children that would blend seamlessly. It caused a lot of children to wait for homes.

It was an admirable cause. One Gavin supported himself. Cross species adoption had been one of his key points when he originally ran. Along with his belief that classification did not define life expectation. And he'd won. A young sub upstart with a wealth of ideas and next to no money. Raim knew there was no way Gavin could deny the request. Preening bastard. The whole thing is a farce. Gavin has no doubt that Raim does have legitimate concerns about orphans. His reputation proceeds him. But the press conference and benefit dinner are more about face time and the ability to show off in front of the who's who of Beacon Hills.

"Kill me now."

"Grandpa Gavin?" Stiles is standing in the doorway to the study. He's dressed down today, just a pair of jeans and a well worn shirt. It might even be Derek's. He's got one hand curled around the frame.

"Yes?"

"You're going to see Mr. Raim? Dad is."

"Hm." Gavin hums and gestures for Stiles to come in. He watches with a wry smile as Stiles ambles in and slumps in his orange wing backed chair. It's a hideous old thing that he should have thrown out ages ago. It was the first piece of furniture he'd bought with his own money. It's age certainly showed.

"You don't wanna go?"

"Not really. But Grandpa Gavin is a grown up." He lets the sentence hang there, not sure what else to say. But Stiles is nodding along solemnly like he understands. Knowing the Sheriff as well as he does, he doesn't doubt Stiles has seen this same situation several times over. Gavin flicks at his desk calendar and peers over at Stiles. "Any suggestions?"

Stiles scrunches up his face in thought. Then he snorts. "Invite a bunch of orphans. Little sticky ones. And give them candy."

Now that, is an idea.

* * *

Because Talia is the Alpha she by and large does as she wishes. And tonight she wished to eat dinner with the family rather than with a dragon. Lucky woman. With his beautiful wife pulling the doting mother card Gavin had been stuck trying to find someone to accompany him. Peter was out. He didn't want the night to be a complete disaster. For a second he thought he'd had Mitch in the bag but he'd been sorely mistaken. Even Janice had her excuses.

Which left him with Colt and Stiles. Maisy had sympathetically shaken her head no and told him that she had a very important tea party to attend. At least his youngest son still loved him. Derek had graciously allowed Stiles to tag along so he could get some work done. Always eager to see his father again, Stiles made sure to dress for the occasion. Clip on bowtie included.

Gavin hadn't bothered getting Colt into something nicer than a polo. He'd taken Stiles' suggestion of sticky orphans to heart. With any luck they would climb all over Raim and tear out some hair. A man could dream.

At the moment Colt was making fast friends with the foster children. Gavin chose to work with a woman named Amiee. She was a formidable Native woman that owned a four story a block away from BHHS. She could house upwards of twenty children. And it was her life's passion. She never discriminated because of species, or any other aspect. Currently she was toting around a very shy gargoyle infant. It was a bit too young for Gavin to descern sex or gender. The baby looked very much like a weather smoothed garden decoration.

Gavin watches from his table as Stiles makes his rounds. He darts back and forth between Colt and his father. He stops to poke and coo at the gargoyle baby twice that Gavin sees. He's only made one attempt to speak with Raim. They'd been wholly unimpressed with each other and secretly Gavin was hoping for a confrontation. Derek wouldn't approve but Littles needed to be Little.

A chair scrapes across the floor next to him. Gavin turns to see the Sheriff sliding into the seat next to him. He's dressed semi-formal. Blazer and jeans, his badge is pinned to his chest. He looks as exasperated as Gavin feels. "Having fun Skylar?"

Skylar pins him with an unimpressed look. "You'd think everyone would know dragons are full of hot air but..." He waves his hand absently. Gavin chuckles and quickly covers his mouth. A few heads turn his way but no one comments. The kids are being loud. There's screeching everywhere. Gavin had made arrangements for a bounce house and an arts and crafts station. And right now Raim was stuck right in the middle of it.

"Ten bucks, he makes a speech on camera, deflects to us, and runs to his car before the ice cream comes out."

"Ah hell, I say Stiles is what does it."

"Betting against your own son Skylar?" He makes a tisking noise but he's grinning. Since Derek and Stiles started courting the two of them have gotten a chance to become actual friends rather than just work acquaintances.

Skylar folds his arms against the table and leans in close. "Between you and me I'm hoping this dragon blows it. Nothing against the kids, I appreciate the cause, I just--"

"Can't stand the messenger?" The two of them hum in agreement and turn their attention back to Stiles. He's inside the bounce house leading what looks like a conga line. Colt's fly away hair is just barely visible through the mesh wall. He's very happily taking the rear of the line.

Raim is sitting away from the crowd wearing the fanciest outfit of the bunch. He's wearing riding pants for Christ's sake. His bright red hair is swept aside in an outdated princely fashion. Gavin wants to tip him over. Or send a hoard of kids over to climb over him with sticky glue and glitter covered fingers.

For another hour Gavin and Skylar make their rounds. They chat with the foster parents in attendance, hopeful potential parents, and the children. They keep their contact with Raim to a minimum. It's really for the best. The news crews are happy though. They talk to several of the kids and get a couple of positive sound bites from them. A few passersby asked and picked up fliers. Obviously there's not a massive amount of people looking to adopt right this second, but word of mouth is important.

"I've just found that happy homes are happy homes. No child should have to go parentless because of genetics. It's just barbaric really." Raim is lording over a perky journalist. He's eagerly soaking up everything the dragon says, nodding along like a bobble head. Gavin decides he has to make his way over before the whole event is unsalvagable.

The Sheriff is kind enough to tag along. Gavin easily slides up next to Raim and slings a casual arm across his shoulders. Not something he'd like to do but he has a tactile reputation.

"Mayor Hale, what are your thoughts on the event so far? Are we looking at some future family members?"

Gavin chuckles and pats Raim on the chest, a little harder than necessary. "Well I'd like to say that today was a success. Whether today leads to adoptions or not, the kids are having fun and getting exposure. That's what we need to take from today. I'd like to thank Raim here for suggesting this event and Sheriff Stilinski for securing the permits. It was a joint effort that we'd all be happy to do again."

"Wonderful, wonderful." The reporter turns and takes a step away from the three of them to wrap up his segment. He mentions the foster home and the current legislation in place for cross species adoption. Skylar gracefully steps in front of the two of them so that Gavin and Raim can grimace at each other.

"Gentlemen, I think this is my cue." Raim gracefully ducks out from Gavin's hand and makes to leave. Gavin is happy to let him but Skylar intervenes. The Sheriff steps in close and claps the dragon on the shoulder. Gavin can see his fingers dig in just this side of unfriendly.

"You can't leave yet. We haven't cut the cake yet. We should get a group picture. You, the kids, and the cake." Skylar doesn't take no for an answer, leading him firmly to the sprawling table holding the cake.

With a smirk Gavin cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, "Kids, cake time!" There's a chorus of answering shrieks. And shortly after a round of laughter from the adults. Stiles graciously waits to exit the bounce house last, mindful of his height advantage. Raim looks like he'd rather die than risk getting icing on himself. Gavin is starting to think the gold stitching on his fitted coat is actual spun gold.

Seeing an opportunity, all of the news reps come in close. There's cameras on every side and no way for Raim to escape without seeming like an asshole. So the dragon grits his teeth and lets himself be boxed in by Gavin and Skylar. They stand on either side of him, just behind, so the kids can crowd in close. There's pictures of them with the cake. Pictures with the cake being cut. And finally a wide shot of every kid holding a slice.

Stiles of course is counted as a child. The more seasoned field reporters know both him and Colt well enough. It sometimes worked to their advantage. Stiles was something of a Brat/Little icon to the local community. It was a fifty/fifty shot that Stiles would say something amazingly insightful or do something ridiculous for the camera. Either way he made ratings.

At some point Stiles had gained himself a paper crown. His bowtie was now clipped to one of his belt loops, and his shirt was untucked. Which is why Gavin had put Colt in a polo. He'd learned that lesson the hard way.

"This is your son Sheriff?" Raim moves to brush Stiles on the shoulder but he swoops away from the touch. Stiles snorts at Raim's affronted look and shoves a forkful of cake in his mouth.

"This is Stiles."

"What an unusual name."

Stiles licked his lips and rounded to lean against his father. Gavin closed in on his other side in case Raim did something to upset him. "I like it." Stiles shrugs and takes another big bite of his cake. He leaves a smear of royal blue frosting on the corner of his lip. "Do you spit fire?"

Raim cocks a brow and crosses his arms. "If I wanted I could yes."

"Are you bonded? Do dragons bond? I know some species don't like collars and stuff. And I know Spriggans are Neutral. Are dragons like that?" Under normal circumstances Skylar or Gavin would curb Stiles' enthusiasm but it's much funnier to watch Raim respond. He clearly doesn't want to humor Stiles, but knows he can't risk blowing off a sub in such a position.

Raim draws himself up to his full height and smiles at Stiles. It looks almost painful. "Dragons are all Doms. It is in our blood. We come together long enough to fertilize our eggs and then we part. A dragon is a flame that can not be held."

Gavin wants to snort. Years of listening to Peter talk have stripped away all joy and awe of poetic one liners. But the nearby reporter is soaking it up. The camera's not rolling yet. Small miracles. He casts a look over at Stiles, who is similarly unimpressed.

"Are you all Doms? Really?"

"It is our birth right."

"But you could just be aggressive Neutrals right? If all of you are the same like that. Like Spriggans." Sklyar squeezes Stiles around the hip, warning him that if he keeps going he could dip into derogatory territory. Stiles though is endlessly curious. Skylar knows that right now Stiles is willing to say just about anything to wind Raim up. Neither of the Stilinski men appreciate blow hards. But it doesn't give him a free pass, childish inflection notwithstanding. Skylar is about to lead him away when Stiles holds up his fork in thought. "But you definitely can spit fire?"

A little kid running past scoffs. "Of course dragons breathe fire!" Then he pats one frosting sticky hand against Raim's thigh and scampers off.

"No, dragons spit fire right? You breathe air like me and Daddy."

"I do have the ability, yes. It's nothing as gauche as your movies like to show. We make smaller, hotter flames." Happy to be talking about himself again, Raim barely grimaces as he cleans the trace of frosting from his leg. Gavin and Skylar settle themselves in to hear a long lecture about the mechanics of dragon's fire. Stiles, the little traitor, wriggles away and disappears into a horde of hyper children.

This time around Gavin is more than happy to let Raim make his escape. The event is winding down. The younger children are getting sleepy. Any minute now Derek is going to call and fuss over Stiles. Gavin sighs happily and snags another piece of cake. Like the good Sheriff he often faces the wrath of his loved ones in concerns to his diet. As if he didn't make it to adult hood eating all on his own. Left to his own devices he won't eat an entire cake. That would just be silly. An extra slice or two is perfectly reasonable.

Around the second to the last bite Gavin hears trouble. He hears a lot of tiny gasps and 'Uh ohs'. Raim is standing near the children. The older ones, some of whom have a tentative classification, and he's got soda all down his front. Raim looks like he's going to work himself up into a fit. Gavin has first hand experience with grape soda stains. He's half tempted to sit back and watch Raim make a fool of himself, but the children don't deserve that. With a sigh he stands and searches the crowd for Skylar, who is already heading over. His thumbs are hooked in his belt and his face is drawn.

Raim twist up his face in a snarl and opens his mouth, probably to scream. But it never comes. Out of nowhere he's been doused with a bucket of water. It was grimy and blades of grass clung to Raim's soaked hair. It was probably the water from the water balloon cooler. Off to the side Stiles was on the ground, laughing so hard he was choking.

"Mr. Dragon, no fire please. I like this park." The little boy was around six or so. He was loosely clutching the plastic bucket and looking up at Raim like he was a growling puppy. It seemed like every eye in the park was trained on Raim and the little boy. Gavin had no doubt that Stiles had put him up to the dousing. The soda spill was still a mystery. Stiles was an opportunist really. Judging by the look on Skylar's face he probably thinks the same thing.

As an officer of the law Skylar has an obligation, so Gavin diverts his attention to Stiles. Who by now is not laughing and looking a little wide eyed. Which is a dead giveaway. Gavin moves in close and drops to a crouch. His wrists are resting on his knees, his hands dangling down. "How much of this was you?"

Stiles coughs and starts wringing his fingers together. "I just said about the water. To put fires out." He looks up at Gavin with wide, innocent eyes. He looks like a fawn. Gavin knows exactly why Derek comes off as a pushover. He sighs and reaches out to run his hand over Stiles' hair.

"How about this stays a secret. Just between Stiles and Grandpa Gavin."

Stiles nods enthusiastically and swoops in for a hug. Years of similar attacks keeps Gavin from falling over. "Thanks Grandpa." Gavin settles onto his knees and wraps his arms tight around Stiles' middle.

"Let's go rescue your Dad okay."

Stiles hums and pulls himself away, running over to Raim with his arms raised up high.


	35. Summer Activity

Summertime in Beacon Hills was a flurry of excitement. Their town had a very large number of summer activities. Sports, art programs, magic camps, all manner of things for any interest. Colt and Maisy came home the last week of school with a burning desire to learn gymnastics. As the youngest humans in the pack it was understandable. Derek had gone through a phase where he'd only go down the stairs via somersault. Something which Peter and Laura loved to tell everyone.

Apparently the trampoline in the backyard was the perfect place to practice. Talia and Janice agreed they could go, on the condition that someone else attend an activity nearby. For safety's sake. Though his name was never mentioned Derek knew he was expected to do something about it. His stay at home work schedule didn't always work in his favor. But under the dutiful glare of his Alpha Derek collected several pamphlets for activities near the gymnastics center.

"Okay cub, let's pick something."

Stiles was sitting cross legged on the floor, but he rocks onto his knees and scoots towards the table. "No math camp?" Derek chuckles and spreads out the pamphlets.

"You'd get bored." He gestures for Stiles to hurry and hauls the boy up onto his lap. He waits while Stiles squirms into place and presses a kiss to his temple. "We're going to pick from one of these."

"For Maisy and Colt?"

"Yeah."

Stiles lets out a put upon sigh and picks up the pamphlet closest to him. "Well if it's for them." He opens the booklet and hems and hahs over a arigumi class. Derek is willing to do just about anything else. Thankfully Stiles tosses it to the far side of the coffee table. "We gonna do it together Daddy?"

"Of course." He tucks his nose into the crook of Stiles' neck and tightens his arm around his middle. Stiles has been too hot lately for quality cuddle time. "What do you want to do with Daddy."

Stiles snickers. "Stuff." He gives an exaggerated roll of the hips but picks up another booklet. Derek nips on the side of his neck in retaliation. "I'm lookin' Daddy. I'm lookin'." Stiles flips through a few more booklets. He laughs so hard he snorts when he starts flipping through a pamphlet on basket weaving. To be fair Derek had picked it up for Mitch. "This one." Stiles thrust his arm up high and flapped the pamphlet around. Then he propped the balls of his feet on the coffee table and pushed back until Derek slumped into the couch. "This is the one Daddy."

Derek nudges Stiles' ankles with his foot. "Off the table." When Stiles complies he presses a wet kiss to Stiles' neck. "What'd you pick Cub?" He lazily opens his eyes as Stiles spreads out the brochure. It's for yoga. Derek raises an eyebrow and grunts. "You think we could do that?"

Stiles nods enthusiastically. "I can do yoga Daddy. Lydia n' Alison showed me." Stiles wiggles free from his Daddy's grasp and tosses himself back at the torso. Derek jerks forward to catch him but Stiles is giggling. His palms smack against the table and his shirt rises up on his belly as he bows over. It's not a yoga pose. It's not even a great show of flexibility. But Stiles is grinning.

Derek reaches out and flicks the tiny sliver of Stiles' exposed belly. He yelps and jerks, springing up and smacking at his Daddy's hands. Derek takes a few smacks and delivers a few more pokes to Stiles' middle. They play fight until Stiles is red faced and gasping for breath. That's when Derek relents and scoops Stiles up, tucking him in close. It's not quite nap time yet but he's feeling lazy. So he shuffles them until they're laying on the couch and rolls Stiles partially under him.

"You think you can teach Daddy yoga?" Derek speaks softly into the shell of Stiles' ear. The house isn't quiet around them. There's a steady hum of activity but they're in their own little bubble. And Stiles is twenty minutes away from nap time. He listens as Stiles hums happily and snuffles into the couch cushions.

* * * 

The "Littles and Me" yoga classes weren't taking place at the rec center with the gymnastics. So on the first day of Maisy and Colt's class he dropped them off then walked Stiles across the street to a tiny yoga studio. There are heavy curtains filling out the floor length glass. No doubt to give privacy to the class that's about to start. Derek guides Stiles inside with a hand at the small of his back.

Stiles has insisted on tights but had graciously allowed his Daddy to wear track pants. Derek seriously doubted there'd be anything intense enough in a beginners class to merit anything tighter than track pants. He takes a look around and sees that he's almost alone in his laid back attitude. The whole place reeks of brand new yoga pants, chemical stiffeners still ingrained in the fabric. Derek lets himself relax.

"I wanna sit next to them!" Stiles twists to look at Derek then turns back and runs to roll out his mat. He's chosen to sit next to a rather buff male Little. He's got stubble on his cheeks and thick dark hair on his arms. "I'm Stiles!" The Little next to him smiles and ducks his head, obviously a little shy. Stiles, however, isn't deterred and starts rambling about himself and his relationship in general.

Deciding a rescue is in order Derek stops behind Stiles and places his palm on top of his head. "Breathe Stiles." He kneels down and starts tugging Stiles into position, so they're back to chest, legs stretched out in front of them. While Stiles grumbles and plucks at his maroon tights Derek turns to look at the Little next to them. "That's a very nice shirt." The Little smiles and smooths his hands down his front. He's wearing a tight fitting Optimus Prime shirt and black basketball shorts.

"Thank you. My Mommy picked it out for me." He's looking less shy now that Stiles is leaning into his space.

Derek smiles widely. "Did your Mommy pick this class for you?"

"Yeah, she's friends with Mrs. Mirah." The Little gestures up to the front of the class where a wide hipped woman is chatting with a very petite blonde. "I wanted to be in her class."

All settled in and not willing to be ignored, Stiles leans over his Daddy's arms. "I've never done real yoga. But Ms. Lydia and Aunty Allison do yoga and I think I can do it. I'm bendy." Behind him Derek snorts, then quickly tucks his nose into the nape of Stiles' neck. Stiles mouth drops open in mock outrage. "Daddy! Don't laugh at me." He grumbles and wiggles back, jabbing Derek here and there with his bony elbows.

"Hey, hey, calm down. Class is getting ready to start." Derek smooths his hands up and down Stiles' arms and looks over to the boy next to him. "I'm Derek, and this is Stiles. Is okay that we keep sitting here?" The Little nods bashfully and grabs his bare feet.

"Yeah. I'd like that. I'm Justin."

Derek smiles kindly at him. "Nice to meet you Justin." Before he could say anything else Justin's Mommy came to stand behind him on his mat and Mrs. Mirah was clearing her throat. "Welcome everyone. This is Littles and Me, beginners yoga." She continues her little spiel with a great deal of enthusiasm. The Littles are riveted. Derek can see himself having fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Justin was inspired by [this](http://robbie198119811981.tumblr.com/post/80691629599/foreveratoddler-of-course-i-am-going-to-reblog) post. He's in his underwear but not naked.


	36. Heatwave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got nothing. Seriously. I wrote like fifteen different things that were suppose to be the next part and didn't finish any of them. So I stopped writing these for a while to get the muse back. So hopefully I'll be able to churn some more out now.

The house wasn't built with air conditioning. Most of the time that's not really a problem. The house is in the middle of the preserve, with plenty of tree cover. There are a mass amount of windows that provide an excellent cross breeze. And the Hale pack use to be a bit more liberal with showing skin. Propriety somehow evolved into them and no one's really sure when it happened. So now it's the dead of summer and everyone's sweltering.

They have a couple of window units but supplies are limited. Apparently it's a hot selling item in California. Who knew. The kids get the window units at night. During the day Derek and Peter dutifully move them around to the living room and play room. It's nighttime now though. And even just past midnight it feels like it's pushing ninety five degrees.  
That's why Derek is sprawled across a leather chair in his oldest pair of basketball shorts. Whatever small amount of coolness that had clung to the leather disappeared seconds after Derek sat down. Now the sweat rolling down his back is making him itch and the moisture is puddling up on the seat. It's disgusting and miserable and Derek doesn't know how the rest of his family is dealing with it.

"Daddy?" Stiles is standing in the arch way. His hair is a sweaty mess and his face is flushed pink. Derek hadn't been cruel enough to try and force him into pajamas. Instead he'd gone to bed in a threadbare Minecraft shirt and a pull up. He looks absolutely miserable. Even though the last thing Derek wants to do is invite in more heat, he can't help but open his arms.

Stiles shuffles to him, still half asleep and exhausted from the heat. While trying to climb into Derek's lap he steps painfully on his thigh prompting a grunt. There's enough sweat between them that Stiles more or less slides into place after that. "S'hot Daddy." Stiles pitifully shifts his legs, unsticking them from his Daddy's shorts. "Very hot." He tips his head onto his Daddy's shoulder and whines.

Having Stiles in his lap easily nudged his temperature to this side of 'too damn hot' but he couldn't bring himself to ask Stiles to move. Instead he starts scratching his nails across Stiles' scalp. He feels like any day now Stiles is going to ask to get his head shaved again. "I know. Way too hot for little cubs huh?" He ducked his head and pressed a kiss to Stiles' sweaty forehead.

"Hm." Stiles curls his fingers in the waistband of Derek's shorts. There's no ulterior motive. It's too hot to do anything fun. Since the heat started to pick up nap time has been shot to hell. It's too hot in the afternoon to sleep. But it's also too hot to do much of anything but lie around. It's made Stiles crankier than normal. Right now all he wants to do is sleep. And he just can't. Stiles sniffs and tucks his face tighter into his Daddy's neck. He's just so tired. He kicks his legs again, restless and angry for no reason.

Derek knows what's going to happen but he figures its best to just let it run it's course. He keeps scratching his nails through Stiles' hair and tucks his palm over his hip. He tries to rub soothing circles over his skin. It won't stop what's building. Derek can almost count down to the second it starts.

Stiles takes in a shuddering breath. His shoulders hitch up and wind tighter with each small breath. Derek stops scraping through his hair and cups the back of his head, holding his face tighter to his neck. It's almost a relief when Stiles lets out the first sob. He tucks his nose into Stiles' hair and let's his Little boy work out his tears. He's been cranky since the heat wave started. Throwing fits on and off all week. He hasn't been this deprived of sleep since before they started courting.

The tears are running hot all down his Daddy's neck and across his face. His whole body is hitching and twisting with his tears. He just wants to go to bed with his Daddy. And not be tied. And not be hot. "H-h-hot Daddy. Hooooot." Stiles rears away and tries to force out more words. All that's coming out is garbled blubbering. He restlessly rubs his legs together, kicking his feet out over and over again.

Having waited for this all week, Derek was able to keep calm. He let Stiles kick and squirm and cry until he tired himself out. By the end of it Stiles was slumped against him again. His face mottled pink and covered with hot tears. Derek held Stiles' hands in his own to keep him from wiping at his face. There was snot. "Okay cub, come on." There were a few seconds of awkward maneuvering. They were sweating. Derek slid against the leather and across Stiles' legs while he tried to pick him up.

They very nearly ended up on the floor. When Derek is finally standing up he's rewarded to a watery giggle. Stiles is half asleep already but Derek wants him up for a little while longer. He carries him to the kitchen and gently eases him into a seat. He grunts, unhappy but too tired to kick up another good fuss. Then he drops his head onto the table.  
With the heat wave showing no signs of letting up they're going to have to find a more permanent solution. Even if it's ordering fans in bulk. For now though a cold drink will do. Derek fills up Stiles' favorite Hawkeye cup and drops in a couple of ice cubes. "Stiles." Derek holds the cup under his nose and shakes it, rattling the ice around. Stiles drops his mouth open but makes no move to get closer. "Stiles...", Derek tuts and cups his palm over the back of Stiles' neck. The skin is hot and clammy with sweat.

"Ugh." Stiles rubs his slick head against the table and opens his mouth a little wider. Above him Derek chuckles and rattles the sippy cup again.

"Alright, alright." Derek nudges the tip of the sippy cup into Stiles' mouth. He takes a second to rub it back and forth before Stiles sleepily latches on. Once Stiles starts going Derek guides his hands to hold the cup on his own. "Going up." Derek scoops Stiles up from the chair, mindful of his sleepy limbs. While carrying him back to the room Stiles sucks lazily at his drink. His pull up is going to be soaked in the morning. It's why they tend to avoid drinks this late. Or early as it is.

Upstairs everyone who doesn't have a window unit has their door thrown wide open. Cora's room is empty tonight. She stormed out after dinner to crash at Isaac's. Kali's air conditioning was working just fine. Laura and Mitch had pushed their bed up against the window in an attempt to catch some sort of breeze. The only thing they'd done to beat the heat was switch out the sheets. Stiles had finally relented and allowed his ridiculous cat blanket to be stored away. They have a ceiling fan but it creeks horribly and rocks ominously like it's doomed to fall at any second. Thus far they leave it on low if they turn it on at all.

Derek tips Stiles onto the bed, letting him sit on the edge while he reaches up and clicks on the fan. It groans for a second while it comes to life then settles. That done Derek reaches down and tugs at the hem of Stiles' shirt. "Let's take this off."

The sippy cup slips from Stiles mouth and he blinks up at his Daddy, shocked. "Naked? We sleep naked Daddy?" Derek hums and tugs up on Stiles' shirt.

"Very naked." He helps Stiles pull off his shirt, easing the cup through the arm hole with no spills. He urges Stiles to lie back, nudging and guiding him until he's curled up with his pillow. Then he shucks off his own basketball shorts and underwear. He crawls into bed behind Stiles and holds him close. They'd probably be cooler if they slept farther apart. But Stiles is more likely to go to sleep if he feels swaddled.

It takes a little while for them to fall back asleep. Derek listens to the sound of Stiles sucking on his water and rubbing his legs together. The fan rumbles above them and creeks every now and again. Stiles nods off first, the sippy cup rolling from his limp fingers.

* * * 

In the morning Derek wakes first. He can smell Stiles' full pull up even over all the sweat and stagnant air. He rolls away from Stiles, grimacing as their skin unsticks. For a second he just lies on his back, trying to soak in the feeble breeze given off by the fan. At some point someone must have closed their door. He can hear the pack downstairs. He can hear a few plates so it must be towards the end of dinner.

Since the start of the heatwave everyone's been wary of waking anyone. The whole house is full of cranky sleep deprived wolves. With a groan Derek sits up in the bed and scrapes his hair back. He lets himself just enjoy a peaceful naked moment to himself. Those are far and few between these days.

Eventually Derek can't stand to let Stiles lie in his dirty pull up any longer and he rouses him awake. He tips to the side, propped up on one elbow and rubs his hand up and down Stiles' side. "Stiles," he dips his head and presses a kiss to Stiles' warm cheek, "it's time to get up." His Little grunts in his sleep and smacks his lips but doesn't wake. So Derek ducks down and starts kissing up and down Stiles' neck and shoulders, rubbing his stubble across of all of Stiles' ticklish spots. He raises up on his hands and knees to box Stiles in as he continues his assault.

Under him Stiles wakes with a gasp and tries to wriggle away. He starts laughing wildly, happy, loud laughter that bounces around the room. "No Daddy! No tickles!" Stiles swats at him and tries to slide right off the bed but Derek is quick. He flattens himself down and squishes Stiles into the mattress. Stiles makes one last squawking noise before letting himself breathe. "No fair Daddy." He nips his Daddy right under his chin.

Derek chuckles and rubs his nose across Stiles' face, looking for his mouth. He presses in for a soft kiss, sucking in his bottom lip. They trade a few sloppy kisses before the heat gets the best of them. "Alright cub. Time for a change." Derek raises up, dodging Stiles' grabby hands. He passes by their dropped clothes to grab the container of wipes. He turns to see Stiles starfished across the bed.

He makes quick work of the pull up. Stiles knows by now to brace his feet on the bed to lift his hips. Derek cleans him as quick as possible before the idea of a nude day has time to set in Stiles' head. "Skirt or shorts today?"

"Underwears. Too hot."

Derek tutted and flicked Stiles on the thigh. "Skirt or shorts cub." Stiles groans and swishes his arms and legs around across the sheets.

"Shorts. Swim shorts Daddy. We go swimmin' today." Stiles shot up with a sudden bout of energy and tried to get past Derek to the dresser. Derek caught him easily with an arm around his middle.

"Maybe. Regular shorts first. We ask first Stiles. It's not fair if you get to go to the water and the other kids don't." Water sounded like a pretty good idea. Not a beach trip but there was the community pool and the splash park. He herds Stiles towards the dresser and tugs a drawer open. "Pick something out. Underwear too." He watches Stiles out of his periphery as he digs out another pair of basketball shorts for himself. While he pulls on a tank top Stiles streaks past in a pair of athletic shorts. "Stiles!"

Derek huffs and drums his fingers on the top of the dresser. The shirt had been implied but it is hot. He rakes a hand through his hair and decides to let it go. He heads downstairs, jogging down the last few steps to get closer to the air conditioning. It looks like everyone had cereal to avoid having to turn on the oven or stove. As he turns the corner he notices that Stiles isn't the only one who decided to forgo a shirt. Most of the girls are down to sports bras or swim tops. All the men but his father are shirtless. Bher is sucking on a peach in nothing but his TMNT underwear.

That was going to cause a tantrum later. Derek turned into the kitchen, tossing away the pull up, then washing his hands. Stiles was already there filling up a bowl with Life. "Pour Daddy some?" Stiles nodded and pulled another bowl from the cabinet. He splashes some water on the back of his neck while Stiles fixes them breakfast. Sending the kids out to the pool sounds like a good idea. If someone takes the kids out someone else can hunt around for fans or window units.

"Daddy we can go swimmin'?"

Derek pulls the milk from the fridge. He graciously allows Stiles to pour. "I think so. I'll ask." He watches Stiles pour the milk, holding the gallon with both hands, tongue stuck out in concentration. "When do Scott and Allison come back?"

Stiles huffs and shoves a mound of cereal into his mouth. Derek patiently waits for him to chew. The look of frustration on his face is actually pretty amusing. Stiles swallows and folds over his bowl, staring down at his cereal. "Not for another week. They havin' fun though." Scott and Allison were on honeymoon in Arizona. Allison kept them updated with beautiful photos of the landscape and selfies. Scott only sends sporadic pictures, half of which are teal roofed McDonalds' and stray dogs.

Honeymoon's for bonded pairs weren't really correlated with the time of the collaring ceremony. Most often they were anniversary gifts. Derek and Stiles were still trying to figure out what they wanted to do and when. He couldn't imagine how hot it was in Arizona right now. "We'll just have to have a lot of fun today then huh?" Derek knocked his elbow into Stiles and ducked his head. He tried to catch Stiles' eye, moving his head this way and that and humming a little. It only took a few seconds for Stiles to start shifting around and giggling.

Mood lifted, they finish their cereal pretty quickly. Derek lets Stiles run off rather than have him help clean. Derek leans over the sink stares out over the lawn. It's too hot for any of the kids. He's surprised they haven't headed to the pool before now really. More than likely the idea has cropped up a few times and no one wants to be the unlucky sap who has to take all the kids out.

He washes out their bowls and heads upstairs. Laura's off today and for once that's not what she wants. The shop has amazing air conditioning. She's got Bher in her lap and they're sitting on the floor in front of a box fan. Bher is comping his teeth like a puppy. Behind him Laura looks seconds away from heat stroke. "Hey." She grunts. "Laura, let's go to the P-O-O-L." Before Laura can respond Bher is standing. Occasionally he'll strike a serious pose, like a wolf staring off into the distance. It's equal parts adorable and terrifying.

"Derek, he knows that word."

"Apparently." Derek smiles and crouches down in front of him. "I think we should all go to the pool. Sound fun?"

"Fun!" Bher races over to his low cubbies filled with clothes and digs out a pair of green swim trunks.

"Derek, it's gross at the pool!" Laura whines like a little kid and throws herself back on the floor.

"Suck it up." With that Derek heads to his own room. He pulls out his own swim trunks and changes, leaving off his shirt. Stiles' trunks in hand he sets out to find him. Along the way he catches Maisy and gives her the good news. She's off like a shot to tell her brothers and Colt.

He finds Stiles upstairs in the playroom, lying across the padded window bench with one leg dangling out the window. "Cub, come here." Stiles groans a little. His eyes are still closed and it's obvious he's trying to enjoy what little of a breeze there is outside.

"Daddy...m'too hot to move."

"Well I was going to take you swimming but I guess--"

"DADDY!" Stiles practically throws himself off of the bench to obey. "We goin' swimmin'? For real?!" Stiles runs straight into his Derek, wrapping his arms around his middle. "Is everyone goin'?"

Derek smooths his hand over Stiles' hair. "All the kids, and us, and Laura." He shakes out the swim trunks. "Go get ready."  
The news that they're going swimming causes a flurry of activity. It's the most Derek has seen anyone in the house move since the heat wave started. The promise of some cool water is a powerful one.

Being werewolves, it's difficult to go to the public pool. The smells are horrible, both the chlorine and the mildew. There's almost always urine in the pool and the lifeguards are usually more interested in each other than the patrons. But desperate times. Derek isn't exactly happy about the trip but he's always been a little more self sacrificing than his sisters. Maybe it's the Daddy in him.

Laura enters the public pool like she's stepping in dog shit. Derek takes it all in stride, holding firmly to the back of Stiles' neck so he doesn't start running. Bher is perched on Jarrett's shoulders like pirate in a crows nest. "Okay guys, no running. No diving. NO peeing in the pool."

"Yes Daddy. Of course Daddy. I know Daddy." Stiles shakes loose and turns to face him. "We can swim now?" Derek flicks Stiles in the nose then scoops Maisy up under his arm.

"We can swim now." The kids take off, just barely toeing the line between speed walking and running. Maisy hangs under Derek's arm, limp. He starts towards the water slowly, putting a fair amount of distance between himself and Laura. "Maisy..."

"Yeah?"

"If you get Laura in the water I'll buy you another slinky."

"Deal."


	37. Day Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in two days, I'm so proud of me.

"He's just so little." Stiles' lip wobbles. It's happy tears this time, thank God. Stiles is going on his second week of being consistently littler than normal. He's somewhere around four maybe. Not that Derek minds. He meant it when he said when he'd assured Stiles he'd love him no matter what his mental age.

Stiles presses the length of his pointer finger to the glass, just under the hand hole. Colt's class had a field trip to the nearest aquarium and Stiles had been a little put out that he couldn't tag along. And because Derek is weak, he'd taken one look at Stiles' saddened face and scheduled a trip to the same aquarium. So here they were. They'd spent a lot of time near the jellyfish tanks. Stiles had seemed mesmerized by the gentle swaying of their tentacles.

Eventually Derek had had to tug him along to see the sharks. Stiles had perked up at that, babbling facts about sharks and surfers. His excited, slurring speech, drew a few chuckles from fellow Doms and parents. Stiles had left that area willingly after running through his facts. He'd proudly marched from the shark wing to the little cafe. Everything listed was some sort of fish pun.

Stiles had absolutely refused to eat anything made of fish. Which although normal behavior, was coupled with a bit of disbelief. Like he couldn't imagine why anyone would want to eat seafood while surrounded by it. Instead the two of them shared a big plate of fries and a basket of chicken tenders.

Now they were at the otter tank. strategically placed around the glass where small holes that let you 'hold hands' with them. Stiles was absolutely overwhelmed with joy. "He's so cute daddy." Stiles sniffs and blinks tears out of his eyes. There's a sopping wet baby otter clutching tightly to Stiles' pointer finger. He's grinning from ear to ear, like it's Christmas come early.

"He's very cute. Both of you are." Derek pulls his phone from his pocket and drops into a crouch to take a picture. Stiles lets out an excited giggle and carefully turns a bit so he's better posed for the photo. Thankfully the baby otter is more than content to keep a hold of Stiles' finger. "Say cheese."

"Brie!" Stiles smiles wide until he's sure his Daddy has snapped a few pictures, then dissolves into giggles over his own joke. Then he turns back to the glass and starts talking to the otter. "I bet, I bet you got a favorite rock. And it's the best rock. Because you're a super smart otter. Yup. Super smart." He keeps up a constant stream of chatter, asking the baby otter what he wants to do and how's his life in the aquarium? Derek's happy to let him be. Toddler Stiles is a very excitable Stiles. His energy seems boundless these days.

Lately he's been letting Stiles spend his days on the trampoline. Their time at the aquarium is the most peace he's gotten in a while. Derek tips his head back and enjoys the sun on his face. It's going to get cold soon.

"Daddy." Derek grunts. "Daddy can I go touch stuff? Touchin' tank." Stiles points at a sign post. There's a touch tank to the right of them. It'll have manta rays and a few other little things. Colt said his class had skipped it because someone had thrown up near the octopus tank and delayed their schedule.

"That's fine." Derek holds out his hand and takes Stiles'. They start towards the touch tank, ducking through school groups and families. The whole way Stiles swings their arms back and forth and babbles about fish facts he knows and how Finding Dory is going to be the best thing ever.

When they make it to the touch tank Derek guides Stiles by the small of his back to an empty space. For a few moments Stiles just dips his fingers into the water, watching the ripples. Derek curls up behind him and tucks his chin against Stiles' neck. "What do you want to touch first?"

"Jus' somethin'." Stiles reaches out, fingertips in the water hovering over a massive orange starfish. Derek curls up behind him, hooking his chin over his shoulder and wrapping his arms around Stiles' middle.

"Go ahead." Under his Daddy's watchful eye, Stiles gently strokes his finger down the back of a starfish. It shudders under him and starts to scuttle away. Stiles lets out an excited little gasp and starts skimming his fingers around for something else.

A small shark swims closer. Derek doesn't know it's breed but it's small and light brown. Stiles pulls his fingers back, wary of the mouth, but eagerly runs his hand down its back. "S'rough Daddy."

"Yeah?" Derek presses a little kiss to Stiles' neck and dunks his hand into the water as well. The shark's skin is a little rough, kind of like soggy sand paper. "That's the scales cub." It doesn't take long for the shark to get bored. It shoots away from them towards a group of grade schoolers.

"Daddy...", Stiles turns just enough to tuck himself closer to his Daddy, "m'tired." He woke up a lot during the night, too excited to settle down. And he's had fun. He's still having fun but he can feel himself getting sleepy. He's been on a good streak lately. "We go home Daddy?"

Derek is a little surprised. It's not often Stiles is self aware enough to know when to stop. He cups the back of Stiles' head and makes a soft rumbling noise. They've had a pretty full day. If they leave now they'll have time to nap before dinner. Then they could stay up late, maybe do something fun. "Okay cub, we'll go home." He smoothly pulls them away from the tank and tucks Stiles into his side. He keeps his arm across his lower back, keeping his palm across Stiles' hip. While they walk Derek keeps up a steady stream of small talk. 'What was your favorite tank?' 'Doesn't it feel nice outside?' 'Didn't we take a lot of pictures?'

Beside him Stiles nods and hums, happy to be talking to his Daddy but not awake enough to really chatter. The Littler he is, the harder it is to stay away from nap time. Stiles feels like the car trip was over in a second. He dozed in and out, not putting a lot of effort into staying awake. Before he knows it his Daddy is pulling him out of the car and carrying him inside. The bed is nice. He's so comfy.

"Sleep well Stiles."

"Hm...", a wide lazy smile breaks across Stiles' face, "Daddy."

"Yes cub?"

"Otters the bes'. Showin' bellies and hans'..." Stiles trails off, unable to stay awake any longer. Derek can't resist ducking down and pressing a kiss to Stiles' stomach. He's got no doubt that there's a new obsession forming. He figures that by the time the month's over everyone in the house will be certified otter experts.


	38. Bro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted a reason for them to say 'bro' a lot. But then I had feelings.

Scott's not a Daddy but he thinks he might be a good Dad one day. Stiles is kind of like practice. But not really. Just some of the reflexive stuff. Sometimes when Scott is hanging out with Stiles Allison gets this dreamy look on her face. The face that tends to lead to very fun bedroom times. Like, they're not ready for kids yet. But Scott thinks it's pretty cool that if he were suddenly in charge of a baby he wouldn't kill it by accident. So yeah, he could be a Dad.

It's kind of second nature now, Dad stuff. Stiles drops his pacifier on the floor while they're playing video games. Before Stiles can scoop it up Scott plucks it off the ground and sticks it in his mouth to give it a quick clean. Then he pushes it back in Stiles' mouth, all while keeping focus on the screen. He wasn't like, shooting or anything, but he was still running in the right direction.

It takes Stiles a second to realize what's happened. His Daddy does that kind of stuff for him all the time. But this is Scott. Scott used his own mouth to clean his pacifier for him. He takes his pacifier out of his mouth and turns to the side. "Bro."

"Huh?" Scott fires off one last shot then pauses the game. "What?"

Stiles holds up his pacifier. "Bro."

Scott's face scrunches up in confusion for a minute. Then his face smooths out into a dopey smile. "Bro." Then he starts laughing. It's weird. They're adults now. But Stiles kind of isn't. But he is. But sometimes it's like they're teenagers again. Or kids. Scott snorts and punches Stiles playfully in the arm. "It's cool." He unpauses his game, takes a few steps, then pauses again. "Right? It's okay that I did that? I wasn't even thinking dude. I just did it."

Stiles puts the pacifier up close to his mouth. "It's cool. We're cool. Copacetic." He plops it back in and picks his controller back up. Scott unpauses the game and they continue their mission. Before long the two of them are sitting on the edge of couch, furiously smashing buttons.

He's in the game, and doing about as well as usual, but his mind is also kind of somewhere else. Because he's thinking about the other stuff he does for Stiles. Not that he thinks it's not like an equal friendship. Because it so is. Little or not Stiles is the best guy to go to for advice. Even if his ideas are terrible he's a really good soundboard. They're buddies. Brothers from other mothers. But now it's like Scott is learning to be a Dad kind of and Stiles is helping.

Not that he's planning on having kids already. School is super intense. He really wants to be a vet. He knows just about everything about being a vet, about animals. But the other stuff, the prerequisites are insane. But Stiles is helping him out. Allison too. So no kids right now or he might actually die. But it's cool to know he's naturally pretty good at this stuff.

Like earlier they were eating lunch, because it's a bro day, and bro days are all day. And they were eating lunch and Stiles wanted a million things on his pizza. And soda, and doughnut sundaes. But Scott totally talked him down to a pepperoni and bell pepper combo with a Sunny D. And because it's bro day they totally had that doughnut sundae but they shared one kind of big one. Compromises man. Scott thinks Derek would be proud.

And like Stiles always gets hyped up about the chat during the games. Because playing online is begging to get screamed at by angry twelve year olds. And Stiles just feeds into it, getting angry and yelling back, and causing this big cycle of angry word vomit. So Scott said he couldn't find their comm sets and muted the speech.

Or like whenever they go out somewhere Scott will hold Stiles' hand. Because Stiles gets super distracted and sometimes he'll try to wander off. It seemed perfectly natural to just grab his hand when they're crossing the street. Like how he use to ask Stiles to sit in the cart. Which is how Stiles met Derek again in the first place.  
"Stiles, do you think I'll be a good Dad?" This time it's Stiles who pauses the game.

"Dude, do you have something to tell me?"

Scott leans back against the couch, slumping down. "No. Ally isn't pregnant. I was just thinking man. I just want to be a good dad you know." Scott plucks at the hem of his shirt. His Dad wasn't the best. Not an abusive asshole or anything. But not a good dad. He's made it a point to not be a thing like him. But at some point his mother use to love him right? So maybe his dad had started out as a good Dad and went downhill.

"Hey," Stiles turned on the couch so he was facing Scott, "you'll be a great dad. Like, the best Dad." Scott shrugs. "No, seriously. You're awesome. Sometimes you're a big dopey puppy but you're...authoritative? No, it's like you're a team captain you know. You're good at looking out for people."

"I guess."

Stiles waves his arms around. "And like, you're a switch. So you're in the best position to be a parent because no matter what classification your kid is you should have some kind of perspective." Then Stiles scoots closer, leaning in until his head is lying on Scott's arm. "And you're great with me. I know I'm not actually a kid. But I'm a Little. I feel little all the time. You're just...really good at reading my mood. Like how young I feel and if I'm anxious. That's a big part of being a parent I think. Just knowing what your kid is going through and how they're feeling, then reacting to it."

Scott pulls his arm free and throws it around Stiles' shoulders. "You really think I'll be a good dad?"

"Bro." Stiles splays out his hands in the air in front of him. "The best Dad."


	39. Independence Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The littlest of blurbs for 4th of July. I have some ideas floating around and I hope to get some more substantial chapters out soon.

Celebrating Independence Day is a little different for Stiles as a bonded Little. As an actual kid he remembers lighting snakes and sparklers under the watchful eye of his parents. He remembers sitting on his mother's hip while his dad sent off Whistling Dixies and spinning tanks, and bottle rockets in the street. When he got a little older he got a little careless. Bottle rockets turned into a type of dodge ball and he gave up sparklers for firecrackers. He and Scott use to light spinning tanks and toss them into puddles to see where they'd shoot off to.

Now Stiles is too Little to do those things, and his family is full of Were's to boot. Fireworks wreak havoc on their sensitive ears. The Hale pack likes to go out, deep in the preserve to the overlook so they can see the fireworks without hearing them. He's back to sparklers and snakes because they're quiet. It's still fun though. It's the atmosphere probably. No one's drinking, but there's strawberry lemonade and lots of food. Stiles has already eaten two hotdogs, a burger, and a small foam bowl of potato salad all by himself. He's a little too full for a cupcake but he's being patient. He knows his Daddy set one aside for him.

He's clutching a pack of sparklers. Alpha bought the good ones, they're super long and burn in different colors. He's not allowed to use lighters anymore so he's waiting for his Daddy to finish wrapping up the last of the food. From their spot on the overlook Stiles and the others can see fireworks going off all over Beacon Hills. The biggest show is over by the lake where Lydia's lake house is.

She was having her own party there full of alcohol and loud, flashy fireworks. Stiles was honestly glad he wasn't expected to go. As fun as explosions where, and as much as he missed being with his friends, parties like that were too loud. They made him feel jittery and hot. Not at all like this family party. Sure it was loud, and it was crowded, but there was structure. And his Daddy was there. He wasn't worried that something would happen and he'd be stuck on his own. And if it gets too overwhelming he knows his Daddy will come scoop him up and make them a quiet place to calm down.

Lost in his thoughts Stiles gasps when arms lock around his middle from behind. "Daddy!" He grumbles as his Daddy laughs but sinks back into him anyway. For a few seconds Stiles lets himself be scented and enjoys the feeling of his Daddy's rough beard scratching over his neck and cheek.

Derek rocks them from side to side and rubs his thumbs across Stiles' soft shirt. Everyone's wearing something glaringly in theme. He and Stiles are wearing matching faded flag tank tops. It's warm out but Stiles had chosen shorts over a skirt. Derek knows they're going to have to take a long cool shower to scrub away all the sweat and dirt. "You have sparklers?"

"Hm." Stiles hums and taps the box against his Daddy's arm. "You do one with me?"

"Okay." Derek takes a deep breath, chasing the smell of Stiles under forest and soot. He pulls back a little and digs a lighter out of his pocket while Stiles pulls out two sparklers. "Ready?" Derek crowds in close and cups his hand around Stiles' to light the sparklers. Stiles gasps in delight as they spark to life, shooting out bright flecks of blue and red. Derek takes one and starts swirling patterns in front of them.

The two of them stare at the light trails. Stiles is silent, his mouth is hanging open in awe and Derek finds himself paying more attention to him than the light. Soft, quiet moments like this are something Derek treasures. Not because he wishes Stiles were different, but because they come so infrequently. They stand out from the rest of their hectic days. The only thing better are their early mornings, when they're warm and too sleepy to slip out of bed.

Stiles' blue sparkler fizzles out and he lets out a sigh of disappointment. He passes the still hot wire to his Daddy and tips his head back to look out at the stars. It's not as clear as usual, with all the smoke, but it's nice. Not a cloud in sight. His Daddy is behind him, muffling the rest of the craziness from the party. It smells like smoke and lemonade out and Stiles isn't really tired yet.

"You want to light another one cub?" Derek shakes the package and kisses Stiles on the cheek.

"Then we do snakes?"

"Then we can do snakes." Derek watches while Stiles fumbles with the box, pulling two from Derek's hand. He waits patiently for Derek to light them and watches with just as much silent awe as before. Like each sparkler is a brand new experience. "Love you Stiles."

"Love you Daddy. Happy 4th 'f July."

"Happy 4th of July."


	40. En Masse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack decides to go out to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, it has been a bit. Just so you guys know, I have about six different chapters for this all at different levels of done. If that makes sense. I've had a bunch of ideas and all of them are a little stuck. Like, I know where I want them to go but I can't get to that point. So have this.

Going out to eat is a pain in the ass. Honest and truly it almost isn't worth the effort at all. At least when it's the whole pack. For one it's always an argument when it comes time to split the check, regardless of the fact that it always, always, splits the same way. Because one person paying for the whole pack is absurd, even with their bank accounts. But that's assuming they can decide on a restaurant. Going out all together is such a rare event that everyone wants to go to their favorite place and there's never any cross over. Almost like the pack is full of tiny squabbling children.

So assuming the pack has come together, or more likely, Talia has put her foot down, there comes the task of transportation and seating. Everyone ends up in their own cars, family units together. But parking together is out of the question, which is understandable. Or it should be. But someone always ends up having to circle the block or gets stuck waiting behind some elderly diner that takes ten minutes to get out of their spot. It raises frustration. Then it's time to sit. Calling ahead is the clear solution to this problem, but because they can rarely agree on a place to eat it's always a last minute decision unless it's a very special occasion. Which means the pack adults are corralling the pack children, and Stiles, while other diners look on in horror. Because a hungry Were child is a wild Were child.

If it were up to Derek they would never go out to eat ever. They had a perfectly good stove at home. But Stiles was excited. To Stiles, going out to eat with the family was something precious. Skylar worked long, hard, hours. To the two of them going out to dinner was a nice treat and a way to bond after time apart. Having grown up a single child, Stiles was overwhelmed almost to the point of tears at the thought of going out in such a large family group. He said it felt different than parties. He wasn't riddled with anxiety because his family, the pack, acted like a barrier. Being out with them was safe, it still felt like home. But it was a treat. So Derek couldn't begrudge Stiles' overly hyper behavior today.

It had been about three months since the last time they all went out to eat. Their last trip was to Outback Steakhouse where they were very politely asked to never come back. And because they weren't given an official ban Laura decided it was her new favorite place to bring Bher because she was a blight on this earth and a poor example for the pack. But Derek keeps that opinion to himself.

Talia, never one to admit defeat, decided that it'd be nice to celebrate the start of Spring with a nice seafood dinner. Janet told Derek in the strictest of confidence that she was actually looking for an excuse to wear her new paisley maxi dress in a public place that provided a good wind. So the pack dressed, semi-casual, and headed en mass to The Pearl Deck. It once belonged to a country club before it went bankrupt in the late seventies. When the property went up for sale a group of college students bought it, kept the name, but changed all the food.

It sat against a lake. Stiles was more than happy to point out the Martin family summer home along the way. The Pearl Deck was painted in blue, pink, and teal pastels and looked like it was two seconds from falling into the water. But the food was good. Derek had some fond memories of going there as a child, when the pack was a little smaller, a little easier to manage. The only reason Stiles wasn't pouting about the seafood was because he'd been promised a deep fried foot long hot dog.

"Daddy?"

"Hm?"

"Is'a whole thing fried or just the meats?"

"Just the meat cub. But they'll toast the bun if you want them to."

"You eats one 'fore?"

"No cub, but Cora likes them. They come with steak fries and a big pickle." Derek watched Stiles shimmy in happiness through the rear view mirror. He was a little more dressed than usual, in slim khaki's and a soft blue polo. His pacifier was clipped to the breast pocket with a Batman strap. Stiles is feeling small today, somewhere around five. It can be hard to guess. His moods are fluid lately, feeling different ages throughout the day as events unfold.

Just as Derek had suspected, the parking lot is very nearly full. He sees Peter sneak into a space just as someone pulls out. Laura reaches out of the window to flick him off. Derek circles the lot twice before wedging himself between two pick up trucks. He keeps Stiles close, holding his hand tightly. There's not a lot of movement but Stiles is excited, he's tugging this way and that to look at things. "Come on, they'll have a table for us." This time Derek called ahead. They should have a corner of the deck to themselves.

Standing all together the pack seems a little overwhelming. They crowd together in front of the hostess, a constant stream of nudging and babble. It isn't long before they're led out onto the deck where a section has been marked off by a wall of chairs.

"Okay, this will be your table. A server will be along shortly to collect drink orders. Have a nice night okay." The hostess smiles and scurries away. She's lucky. Not thirty seconds later and Bher has already climbed up onto the deck railing to strike a pose. He's going through a pirate phase. Mitch keeps a grip on his ankle and let's him stare out onto the water while everyone else jockies for a seat.

Stiles hangs back, rocking on his toes to look out over the water. It's been a while since he's been swimming. They might make another beach trip soon. "You ready to sit?" Derek tugs on their joined hands. There are two seats between Malia and Gavin. Derek slides in next to his father after guiding Stiles down. The table is nicely decorated but Derek notes the plates are made of heavy duty plastic rather than glass. Smart move. That's how they got banned from Red Lobster.

"Daddy, Daddy, wheres the hot dog?" Stiles has a menu open and he's scanning through it, lips twisted down over the seafood options.

Derek turns a little in his seat and flips the menu to the back. The bottom half is dedicated to the kids menu but the top half boasts their fried hot dogs. All of them are foot long Coney dogs dipped in wet batter and fried. They have some special ones but Derek suspects Stiles will want a custom one. "They're right here cub. Pick whatever you want. If you can't eat it all we'll take the extra home okay." Beside him Stiles hums happily and runs his fingers across the menu.

With him occupied, Derek turns to his own menu and tries to figure out how much seafood he can get away with. They'll both have to thoroughly clean their mouths before they kiss again. He can't quite imagine something worse than hot dog breath. So he decides to just go for it. There's a seafood sampler that looks delicious.

It takes a while for the waitress to come for their drink order. It's an effect their pack has on wait staff. They tend to take a few minutes to bolster themselves for the onslaught. Sure enough, their waitress is young, new, and smells vaguely of fear. But her perky tone and blinding smile wouldn't give that away to humans. Talia starts her order and it moves along the table.

Derek doesn't fight off his smile at Stiles' groan. "And what is this little one having?" At this Stiles perks up in his seat.

"I want a fried hot dog please. With, with ketchup, sauerkraut, mustard, and pickles please."

"Okay sweetie, bun toasted or no?"

"No thanks."

"Fries or onion rings?"

"Fries please." Their waitress nods along indulgently before tipping her head in Derek's direction. But before he can answer Stiles leans between their chairs and gestures for the waitress to come in close. "Ma'am, please bring my Daddy a mint for after. He's eatin' somethin' gross." The waitress stifles a laugh and agrees. She also tactfully ignores Derek's unamused glare.

"Sir, you would like?" Derek sighs and sullenly asks for the seafood sampler. And since Stiles has decided to be cheeky he substitutes crab cakes for the scallop bites. She scurries away after, laughing softly and promising to bring back their drinks shortly.

Stiles stuffs his pacifier in his mouth and radiates amusement. He rocks around in his seat, alternating looks between his Daddy and Malia. She chuffs at him and Stiles starts winding his fingers into her shirt. The two of them keep pawing at each other, Malia chuffing and letting out little barks, while Stiles makes 'awoo' noises behind his pacifier.

"So you mentioned you were editing for Mertha again." Gavin pulls Derek's attention away from the two of them.

"Sort of. She's writing a period piece, in Brazil." Derek and his father share a laugh. Mertha use to be a flight attendant. Then she'd moved on to writing travel brochures. In the past five or so years she's taken to writing soft core porn romance novels. Everything had a dramatic title and featured overly buff men. For some reason she insisted that it all be as historically accurate as possible.

"Did you tell her you don't speak Portuguese?"

"I might have mentioned." Derek picks up his glass and mutters into it, "A dozen times." Working with Mertha is actually pretty fun. She doesn't really set him a deadline and she takes his opinion to heart. Her writing has him a little red in the ears sometimes but it's funny. Sometimes he'll read sections to Stiles, who takes turns being aroused or baffled by it.

Their waitress returns and deftly picks her way around the table, even giving Malia and Stiles her own tiny howl. She assures everyone that their food will be along shortly. It's easy to get lost in the moment. The open deck is ensuring their voices are carrying rather than building up. The light breeze coming off the water is refreshing and the kitchen is far enough away that no one is bothered by the smell of grease.

Derek can pick out bits of conversation all around him. Both from his family and other tables. The entire atmosphere is relaxed and light. If eating out were like this more often Derek would drag his feet less.

When the food comes everyone quiets down after a chorus of 'thank you's. Stiles' hot dog is truly a monstrosity. He lifts the edge of his plate to give Malia a better sniff, then very gently puts it back down at his Daddy's warning look. While his Daddy cuts half of his hot god into more manageable pieces Stiles feigns innocence. The seafood is amazing, fresher than anything Derek has had since those conch fritters the past summer. He doesn't bother to savor his tuna croquettes at all, scarfing them down the the same finesse Bher is showing his fish sticks.

Beside him Stiles is eating in that circular way he does; hot dog, fry, pickle, occasionally scooping up a big pinch of fallen sauerkraut. He's careful to hunch over his plate when taking especially messy bites to spare his shirt. But ketchup still manages to smear across his face. Derek grunts to get Stiles' attention then wipes his cheek to get the worst of it. It's pointless to clean him completely now. Stiles hums in thanks and shimmy's in his seat.

"Look at Alpha."

"Hm?"

"Daddy, look at Alpha." Stiles hides a laugh behind his hand and tips his head towards Talia. She's sitting across from Gavin, taking a break from her food to take pictures. Her phone is propped up against a glass and she's discreetly posing for the camera. Derek nudges his father to catch his attention but the Mayor loftily waves his fork, well aware of his wife's antics. Derek turns back to Stiles and swoops in to kiss him on the forehead.

"Do you like your hot dog cub?"

Stiles nods and rocks forward, his fork already diving into another big chunk of hot dog. "It's the best Daddy." Feeling a little childish himself Derek grabs one of his scallop bites and leans in close to Stiles before shoving it into his mouth whole. He nuzzles in close to his little boy and starts chewing obnoxiously, following him even as he leans away and starts complaining.

"Gross. Daddy gross, gross!" He slaps his hand over his Daddy's mouth and pushes at him. "No fishy kisses Daddy. Gross. Gross breath."

Derek pulls away and chuckles. "At least I don't have hot dog breath." Instead of replying Stiles shoves his face full of hot dog and fries until he looks like a chipmunk. Derek lets it drop and turns back to his seafood sampler. He starts in on his ramekin of lobster macaroni and cheese, groaning to himself at the taste. He can feel Laura's judging eyes on him from the end of the table and he can't even bring himself to care.

Further down the table Peter's children are eating off of each other's plates, picking out the pieces they each like the most. Maisy stealthily sneaks a shrimp off of Jarrett's plate and has to shove a roll in Bher's mouth to keep her secret. Mitch is chasing all of the gnocchi out of his soup so he can save the salmon for last.

Derek can see them coming out again. Maybe in the summer when the salt is really in the air and they have their crab bake special. Stiles certainly seems happier with the fried hot dog than the grilled ones he usually gets stuck with at their home crab bake. Derek smiles at the thought and digs out a spiral macaroni, making sure there's no lobster clinging to it. "Stiles."

He turns and nudges Stiles. "Cub, try this." Stiles turns to him and screws up his nose in distaste.

"No fish."

Derek shakes his head and holds out the fork. "No fish. Just macaroni." Derek pushes the fork closer to his skeptical face. "Just try it cub. For Daddy." He tips the spoon and leans forward, almost tucking his face against Stiles' ear. "Please."

"Ugh." Stiles slowly leans forward and takes the noodle off the fork. He scrunches his nose up again and chews almost angrily, grumbling the whole time. He swallows dramatically and turns his head to stare down his Daddy in distaste. Just as he's contemplating sticking out his tongue his Daddy swoops in for a quick kiss.

"Thank you."

Stiles snorts and loftily turns his attention back to his plate. "Welcome." He picks up his fork and prods at his food. "Still gross." Stiles smirks and scoops up a little pile of sauerkraut. He quickly holds his fork out to his daddy. "Try mine?" Stiles laughs and pushes his fork closer to his Daddy's face, almost poking him in the cheek with it.

Derek leans away and raises his eyebrow. "I don't know, that looks pretty gross."

"Daddy!" Stiles scowls and jabs the fork forward. "No fair. You have to try." When his Daddy playfully turns his head even farther away Stiles starts jabbing his side with a pointed finger. He tries his hardest to jab his finger into the softest parts of his Daddy's ribs and near his belly. 

"Okay, okay." Derek chuckles and turns, catching Stiles' hand against his side and holding it there. "I'll try it." Then he opens his mouth and waits.

Stiles sticks his tongue out in concentration as he carefully tips the fork into his Daddy's mouth, mindful of the prongs. "It's good?"

Derek shrugs and swallows the sauerkraut as fast as he can. Its not that he especially hates the taste, but the tangy quality can be a little overwhelming for him. It's not long after when Derek finishes off his own plate. He's almost reluctant to take a drink, just so he can savor the taste a little longer. Beside him Stiles is absently munching on a fry, clearly full but unwilling to admit it.

Hoping to stave off a future belly ache Derek reaches out and cups Stiles' head, one hand covering his ear. He drags Stiles in until his head is tucked against his own chest. He carefully scoots his chair closer and starts running his nose across the crown of Stiles' head. "Are you full?"

"Hm."

"Yeah hm? Or no hm?" Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek doesn't need to see his face to know.

"I guess yeah." He lets out a little whine and licks his lips. "It's so good though." Stiles wiggles his way closer, turning and twisting in his chair until he's almost in his Daddy's lap, with his head still tucked away.

Derek can hear him mumble 'hot dog' and then some nonsense. He chuckles and scratches through Stiles' hair. "It's okay cub. We'll take it home." Stiles grumbles and settles in. Derek takes his weight and relaxes himself. Around them everyone is finishing up or done. His mother is making her way to the railing.

Derek smirks at his father's put upon sigh. It's all show of course. He's already pulling out his phone, getting his camera ready while his Talia poses. She's carefully arranging her hair and dress to catch the wind at the most flattering angle. She's probably already planning their next trip.


	41. Pun Intended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lunch Time" is more of a loose guideline.

Adderall can suppress appetite. It's just a fact and something that Stiles has had to deal with most of his life. Derek understands that sometimes Stiles just can't eat unless he's forced or reminded. That's why Derek is pretty lenient when Stiles doesn't come at the first call for lunch. If he's not hungry yet it's okay for them to wait a little while longer. But after a certain point Stiles should know to just give up and come down. Not being hungry isn't a pass to keep from eating something. It's not healthy and not something Derek is willing to let his Little do.

"Stiles, I mean it. Lunch time." Derek climbs the stairs to the attic playroom. He sent Stiles up there a few hours before to color. It's just a few days to winter break and he's been antsy, eager to have the other kids in the house. Derek, in desperate need of some quiet time, had sent Stiles up to make Christmas cards.

When Derek makes it to the attic landing it's easy to see Stiles. He's sitting at one of the low card tables scribbling away with a crayon. Today he's wearing pants and a loose red sweater with a fluffy sheep on it's front. It says 'Fleece Navidad' and it was a gift to Derek from Scott which he was all to happy to pass along. "Stiles, lunch time. We're having grilled ham and cheese." Derek waits for Stiles to acknowledge him and when nothing happens Derek sighs and steps farther into the room. "We have applesauce. I know it's hard to eat sometimes cub, but you have to try."

He crosses over to the table and slides his hand across the side of Stiles' neck. He doesn't move in the slightest, or even acknowledge that Derek's touched him at all. "Oh cub." It doesn't happen very often anymore, a benefit of a well regulated schedule, but hyperfocus can still be a problem. Stiles is entirely zoned into his drawing. "Stiles." Derek starts rubbing his thumb across Stiles' jaw, trying to rouse him gently.

The gentle touch brings Stiles around enough for him to shift his legs, but not enough to get him to stop coloring. He crouches down and wraps his arms around Stiles' middle so he can bring himself close enough to nose the back of his neck. "Stiles what are you coloring?" This earns him a little grunt. He peppers a few kisses across the back of Stiles' neck and onto the sliver of shoulder he can see. "Are you making something for Daddy?"

"Hm."

"It looks really nice. You've done such a good job." Derek can feel Stiles settle more fully into the chair. He's back.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah cub?"

"You was calling me?" Stiles lets the crayon go and tips his head back to rub his hair across his Daddy's face.

"It's lunch time cub. We're having grilled ham and cheese."

"I like that."

"I know cub." Derek playfully nips at Stiles' ear before standing. He holds his hand out for Stiles to take and helps pull him out of the chair. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah. Want extra cheeses."

"Extra huh?"

Stiles smiles as wide as he can and takes the lead, pulling his Daddy along with him. "Yeah, lots and lots." Stiles ambles down the stairs, swinging their clasps hands as he goes. The kitchen is empty when they get there but there's two plates sitting on the counter next to the butter tub. "I can get the cheese Daddy?"

"Yes, and the ham." Derek keeps an ear out while he pulls out a pan and spatula. He can hear Stiles rummaging around for different types of cheese. He snags some bread from the counter and starts buttering them.

"I want tomatoes too." Stiles cheekily slides a half a tomato on top of the cheese pile. "You want tomatoes Daddy?"

"Maybe a little." Derek puts together the sandwiches, adding two slices of tomato for Stiles and one for himself. While he watches the pan he keeps an ear out for Stiles. The Little is puttering around the kitchen gathering fruit and drinks for the both of them. "Stiles, sit please. It's all done."

When he slides their plates into place Stiles has already peeled an orange and gotten out a bag of baby carrots. There's two cold glasses of water waiting too. "Extra cheeses inside? With my tomatoes?"

"Yes Cub, extra cheeses and tomatoes." Derek watches with a fond smile as Stiles dives into his sandwich and takes a huge bite. He's always been a messy, enthusiastic eater. Satisfied that Stiles will actually eat, Derek starts in on his own meal.

He's polished off most of his sandwich when Stiles leans away from his plate and makes a thoughtful face. "Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think sheeps have holidays?"

Derek furrows his brow and stares down at his plate. "Um...I don't...what do you mean cub?"

"We has holidays. Do animals think they have holidays too?"

Derek takes a deep breath and picks up a carrot. "I don't know cub. I guess we'll never really know." He takes a bite of his carrot and shoves the other half towards Stiles, waving it in front of his face until he takes it.

Stiles makes loud munches noises while he chews it up then sticks out his tongue. "I think they do." He picks up an orange segment with one hand and smooths down the wool on is sweater with the other. He giggles and says 'fleece Navidad' to himself.

"So what if they don't celebrate Christmas?"

"Huh?"

Derek leans forward, elbows on the table, and tries to look serious. "What does a sheep say when they don't celebrate Christmas?"

Stiles tips his head to the side. "Dunno Daddy. What?"

"Baa humbug."

Stiles slumps in his seat. "Not funny." Stiles puffs his cheeks out and pouts at his Daddy's answering laughter. He waits sullenly until his Daddy is busy eating again before eating some more of his orange. "Sheeps is happy for Christmas."

Derek listens fondly as Stiles grumbles to himself about the logistics of a sheep Christmas. He seems just fine now, coherent and happy. Hyperfocus happens sometimes, just like lack of appetite. Medication is for managing symptoms. Derek has gotten a lot better at rolling with the punches rather than panicking at every little thing. Stiles has ADHD and it's a real disorder, with real medication, and real complications. But it's such a small, manageable thing. They're going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow guys, two in two days. Hopefully the writers block is well and truly gone. Also you may have noticed this was suppose to go up at the beginning of December. I have stuff half written from last summer I never finished up.


	42. Scary Stories, Scary Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Colt have a little backyard camp out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on a fucking roll over here. I'm hoping I can keep this up.

Strictly speaking Stiles didn't consider sleeping in the back yard 'camping'. He'd camped plenty of times as a kid with his father. Under the stars in the preserve was camping. Spending the night in a national forest was camping. Tossing some sheets over the trampoline to close it in did not make it a tent. But if it was as close as he was going to get, Stiles would take it. Colt was with him, Elias was waffling. He wasn't sure if he wanted to give up watching his show for a backyard camp out but Stiles was firm that the sheets were to close permanently by nine. If Stiles got into telling a scary story he didn't want Elias ruining his flow by ambling in half way through.

So it was Stiles and Colt against the world. Until breakfast time because Alpha was making chocolate chip cream cheese pinwheels and Stiles wasn't going to miss that. Not for anything. Tearing himself away from thoughts of food, Stiles took stock of their provisions. He and Colt both had caterpillar sleeping bags, the kind that had drawstrings and scrunched around their faces. Stiles' looked like a nesting doll. Lydia had bought it for him on a business trip. Colt's looked like a big slug.

Next to their bags Stiles had a bowl of candy that he'd begged his Daddy for. They'd been denied soda in exchange for the candy but Stiles had grabbed a pack of juice pouches instead of waters. They had two flashlights, a heavy maglite and a rubbery blue one. It was really all they needed. If Stiles had to camp in the backyard he could at least do it with the bare essentials.

"Colt, go potty now or forever hold your pee."

Colt huffs but crawls out from under the trampoline to go to the bathroom. Stiles had just gone right before he'd brought out the candy. Daddy had stuck him in a very thick night time diaper that Stiles despised on principle. He didn't want to waddle. But it was nice to know he wouldn't have to make any midnight runs through the dark house with only his shins as guides. He planned on sending Colt in in the morning to get his Daddy outside for a change.

Stiles sprawled back on his sleeping bag and took a deep breath. It smelt like grass and socks. He wrinkled up his nose and rolled onto his stomach. "I'm gonna tell such a scary story tonight." It was past dark but not so late that the house lights were off yet. Stiles didn't want to flick on his flashlight until he needed to, both for dramatic effect and in case he got scared.

It was easy for Stiles to relax and just listen to the quiet sounds of the preserve. The low level sounds of leaves rustling and crickets chirping weren't enough to make his brain ping pong between things. He could just settle down and drift a little bit.

He barely notices when Colt comes back. He has to shake himself out to wake up a bit. They're going to stay up all night. It's them against the wilderness. Them against the scary stories. "You ready to get started?"

"Yeah." Colt unzips the bottom of his sleeping back and starts sliding into it. He leaves the hood undone and tugs it down until it's scrunched along his stomach so he can have his arms free. Stiles shimmys into his as well but his has little zipper holes that he can stick his arms through. He settles himself and pulls the hood tight until all Colt can see is the little circle his face makes.

They don't start with the scary stories. Stiles wants to save that until the lights in the house go out. Instead they busy themselves with a game of Bullshit but call it Cheat because Stiles doesn't put it past his Daddy to hear them out there swearing. It's not as much fun with only two people but they're both equally bad liars and that causes some doubt itself. They end up only playing one round of that.

They move on to playing Speed, which is much easier when both opponents are human. Less chance of bruising that way. Stiles wins most of those which he contributes to his years of sports. Colt is a good loser though and eagerly resets the game each time no matter how much his hands sting. When it gets so dark they need the maglite Stiles figures it's time to switch over to scary stories. He graciously allows Colt to go first. And it has nothing at all to do with the fact that he thinks his own story will be impossible to top. None.

Colt has decided to read some of his favorites from "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark". Stiles remembers them from when he was a kid. He remembers reading them at night with Scott with a little Buzz Lightyear flashlight. So it's not scary but it's nice and Stiles lets himself fall into his headspace and get creeped out. The stories are creepy. A camp out must read.

Stiles has been working on his own scary story for a few days now. He really thinks he's outdone himself too. It's a little "Goosebumps", a little "The Village", and a lot scary. He hadn't even scribbled this one down on anything.

It starts with a girl on a bike seeing a boy on a corner. The boy is new to town. He's very confused and very angry. And the girl wants to know more. There's a lot of investigation, a lot of sneaking around in the dark. But the boy is still distant. He says the town is wrong. That they're all wrong. That there's another place out there, loads of places. The girl thinks he's crazy but she wants to believe it. So she does. She runs around with him. Then they're breaking into places, stealing cars, keeping secrets. It's all very crazy and super action packed and a lot like a good thriller.

Colt is appropriately enthralled. Stiles waits until he introduces the creatures to put the maglight under his chin. He knows the way it lights his face is plenty creepy. He describes giant hulking things that walk half upright and have no real shape besides kind of prickly. He explains how they seem to patrol the edge of the town and how they only come out at night but you can only hear them during the day.

As the story nears it's close, when the boy and girl are just about to the outskirts in a stolen car that won't start, Stiles leans forward and starts whispering. Colt is tipped forward, gripping the edge of his sleeping bag tight, like it's the only thing keeping him safe.

"And just then they saw it, shadows coming up across the dashboard. It was entirely quiet outside and they knew the things were behind them. Getting closer and closer to the car." Stiles leans forward for dramatic effect, almost blinding himself with the flashlight. But Colt isn't looking at him anymore. He's staring wide eyed at the sheets behind Stiles and he looks way more scared than he did at any point while Stiles was talking.

Stiles clutches his maglite and slowly turns. The tightly scrunched opening of his sleeping bag cuts out his peripherals and catches across his face as he tries to turn. With his other eye he sees it though, two large shadows creeping silently closer to their makeshift tent. They look bent in half, with heavily humped backs that have wild spikes coming out of them. Just like the creatures from their story.

Stiles clutches his maglite tightly and rolls until he's kneeling. He can't get out of the tent without taking off the sleeping bag and he can't take off the sleeping bag without making noise. Behind him Colt is holding onto a thermos like a bat. Stiles knows the only thing he can do is wait. So the two of them keep their eyes on the shadows coming closer until one they're right at the edge of the trampoline. A dark cone like limb pushes aside a sheet and Stiles lunges.

With a screech Stiles dives forward as best he can while zipped up in his sleeping bag and slams the maglite down on what he thinks is the creatures face. Stiles ends up flat on his face with arms stretched out. At first he thinks he's going crazy because instead of a mighty roar he hears "Son of a BITCH", followed by a lot of snorting laughter.

And the laughter doesn't stop. Stiles rocks from side to side like a flipped turtle until Colt ambles over him and tugs down the sheet blocking their view. Stiles manages to say thank you when Colt rolls him onto his side, even as he takes in the sight before him. The two looming shadows weren't the scary beasts from his story. It was Issac and Cora. Stiles can see by the light of his flashlight that the two of them had thrown blankets over their backs to hold down pillows. Then on top of that they'd put Alpha's summer decorative palm fronds for spikes.

Cora was the one laughing. Stiles had managed to catch Issac in the nose with the tip of the flashlight and he was lying on the ground rocking around with a hand held to his face. "Cora! We were having fun." Colt is scowling and pointing an accusing finger at his big sister.

"And you're still having fun dork."

"You scared us!"

"That was the point of your story right? We helped."

Colt huffs and sits down on Stiles' hip. Stiles grunts but doesn't try to move. He's calmed down a little and he's not sure if he should feel sorry for Isaac or not. "What's he doing over anyways? Does Mom know?"

Stiles smirks and shines the flashlight right into Cora's face. "Yeah, does Alpha know?"

"She'll know if you two don't shut up."

"You're the one laughing like a hyena." Underneath Colt Stiles starts laughing and signing 'hyena, hyena' until Isaac pushes on his head with his foot.

With that Isaac sniffs hard one last time and stands up. His nose looks fine. It's not even red anymore. "And we don't need the Alpha's permission. We're adults Colt." Then he leans back into Cora and tries to whisper "We don't need permission right?"

Stiles and Colt snort at the same time. Cora punches him in the arm. "No dumb ass. I just don't want to wake her up. Come on, the tv is free and I've got cheese sticks in the freezer." With that Cora starts off towards the house, dragging her bundle of pillows with her. Isaac follows behind after glaring at Stiles one last time.

Colt lets out a put upon sigh. "I'll fix the sheets." He climbs off of Stiles and gets out from under the trampoline to fix their tent. Stiles starts to shimmy backwards until he's far enough under to just roll into a good position. Once he's settled he flings his arm out into the candy bowl and feels around for a good piece. He knows Colt's favorites are the Twix so he avoids those.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I gonna suck when I get older?"

Stiles snorts and flings a Twix at him. "Nah, I think Cora's just always sucked." Stiles expects that to be the end of it. But instead Colt climbs into his sleeping bag and closes himself up like a little slug and draws up his knees.

"I think I remember her being cool. Now she's a Domme and she's kind of a douche sometimes." Colt scrunches up his face and looks over at Stiles. "What if I'm like that?"

Stiles rolls onto his side. In an effort to be more serious he takes a second to tug his face into the center of his sleeping bag hole. "Nah, I remember Cora from school. She's always been grumpy. And Isaac has been kind of douchey since he got bit. They're just being gross and mean because they're in love and they think it's cool."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah, it's all for show. Besides it was pretty funny. And we were trying to scare each other."

"Do you think I'll be a Dom?" So far all of Colt's preliminary testing has shown that he's more likely to be a Dom than anything else. But he hasn't really scored high so it could go either way. He could even go Switch. Colt won't know until he's older and more settled into himself. Some people are just late bloomers.

"I dunno. You could be. You might be a Dom like Daddy. Or you could be a Switch like Scotty. You don't have to be all 'grrr' to be a Dom."

"What if I don't want to be a Dom?"

Stiles shrugs. "Then you won't be." It was extremely rare to present as something that would greatly disagree with your nature. It usually only happened in cases of extreme abuse or trauma, where someone felt intense anxiety at the thought of Domming after what had happened to them. But usually your brain worked things out right. Status took a little while to settle in. There was a lot of research out there that suggested environmental influence on presentation. Nature vs. Nurture was a huge thing to consider.

And then there were all the people who fell on the lower end of the spectrum, closer to Neutral than either extreme. And that was fine too. They were capable of long, happy, fulfilling lives. Not everyone needed a full leather suit and a good whipping to be happy. Some people just wanted to be told to eat a good breakfast. Or to be the one to say it. If Colt wasn't meant to be a Dom he wouldn't be.

"Why're you worried?" It looks like Colt is shrugging but Stiles can't really tell from under the sleeping bag.

"Everyone else is a Dom and a werewolf. I'm human. And I don't feel like a Dom. I don't want to disappoint anyone."

Stiles figures it's time to get a little serious. He sits up and pulls himself over to Colt and pulls him into a good sideways hug. "Alpha and Grandpa Gavin love you a whole lot. They love all their kids, and all their nieces and nephews, and everyone else in the pack. They love Cora when she's being a butt. They love Malia when she's tearing up the furniture. And they love you all the time because you're Colt. And you're the baby. And it wouldn't matter if you were Neutral, or a Switch, or Sub, they'd love you lots because you're Colt and you're a big part of this pack."

Stiles doesn't usually have heart to heart talks so he's not sure how to end this. To play things safe he does what his Daddy does to make him feel safe and loved. He rocks to the side and pushes Colt to the ground and lies half on top of him, squishing him just a little bit. And just to prove he's serious he pulls his arms into his sleeping bag and crosses them to do up the zips. That way he can settle down on Colt all the way and prove he's not moving until all the bad thoughts are squished out of him.

They must fall asleep like that because the next thing Stiles knows he's face down in the grass and his diaper is full to bursting. He groans and contemplates rolling onto his back. He turns his head as much as his sleeping bag will allow and smacks his lips together.

"Stiles?"

He groans a little and smacks his lips a few more times. It's too bright out to open his eyes just yet, he can already feel the sun on his face. Colt is kneeling above him, already out of his sleeping bag.

"I went inside to pee. Do you want me to get Derek?"

"Ugh."

"Do you want to come inside or should I go get him?" Colt pushes on Stiles' side, gently rocking him to the side. "Stiles?"

"Uhh...five more mins...jus...", Stiles yawns wide and tries to scrunch himself into a ball.

Colt sighs and decides it's best to just go and get Derek. Turns out he doesn't have to go far though. His big brother is already stepping outside with a mug of coffee and Stiles' Pokemon daycare bag. He looks like he's slept well, there's still a pillow crease on his cheek.

"Mornin' Derek."

"Good morning Colt." Derek holds out his arm and pulls Colt into a hug. "Did you two have fun last night?" Derek takes a sip of his coffee then smiles down at his little brother.

"Yeah, it was really fun." For Colt Stiles always seemed like a little brother. Even though he was tall and lanky Stiles was Little. He filled up a room with his noise not his body. Stiles had always very neatly fit into the box of 'little brother' or 'hyper younger cousin'. But last night was a little different. Usually their late night talks were about stupid stuff, kid stuff. It made him think about how old Stiles was. How he was actually Cora's age and that he'd already been through a lot of stuff. So maybe Stiles could be his big brother sometimes too. Or a peer.

Derek lets Colt go and briefly scratches across his scalp. Colt watches him head over to the trampoline and place his coffee on the little plastic steps. Then Derek leans down and grabs Stiles by the bottom of his sleeping bag and pulls. The nylon offers no resistance to the grass and Stiles comes sliding out with a loud screech. Colt stays outside long enough to watch Derek pin Stiles in and start kissing all over his face. It's sweet, even if Stiles is fussing to high heaven. And he can kind of see himself on either side of that. He's not sure yet which end he'd prefer, but if that's the type of Dom he could be maybe he could relax just a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a side note if anyone can draw me a little picture of Stiles bundled up like a sausage with a face in his sleeping bag I'd be eternally in your debt. And Cora's not actually mean to the kids, she's just being a grouchy big sister.
> 
> I didn't intend for this to be so long or go kind of somber near the end but I had a chance to make it longer so I figured I should.


	43. Cactus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kira and Stiles get a little overzealous with their science project.

Kira is willing to admit she's a little overwhelmed. If there were anyone around to admit it to. As it stands Kira's on her own. Well, Stiles is sitting in the backseat crying his eyes out. That's the problem. Kind of. It's kind of also really her fault to begin with so she kind of deserves this. Kira takes a deep breath and flicks her eyes up to the rear view mirror. And yup, Stiles is still holding onto a potted plant crying. His skin is splotchy and red and there's snot running down his face.

Why does this stuff always happen when Derek's at work? "Stiles. Stiles sweetie it's okay." She tries to smile but it doesn't quite happen. She can feel her face doing that weird nervous half smile thing that makes her look guilty.

"N-No. Noooo." Stiles starts hiccuping and curls himself around the singed plant in his lap. "T-troubbllllleee. I'm, I'm...", Stiles starts wailing. Kira puffs out her cheeks and tries to count to ten. Derek has to be a saint.

"No it's going to be okay. I promise okay." Kira turns on her radio and flicks to the oldies station and hopes for the best. Honestly she's not sure everything is going to work out. It started out with Peter inviting her over for one of Stiles' science projects. They were suppose to lure worms out of Janice's garden for the compost heap. It started out well enough. Peter collected the tea tree dog soap and the buckets. Stiles started explaining everything with the help of his hand drawn poster.

Under Peter's watchful eye the three of them soaped and watered the ground, plucked up the worms, washed them, and moved them to the compost. Kira had tried her best at casual conversation with Peter while Malia and Stiles gleefully stirred up the compost. Then Peter took a call and had to take Malia with him on an errand. Which left Kira in charge of Stiles. For the first time ever.

She thought it would be fine. They could run around outside or go inside and color. Or watch cartoons. But Stiles didn't want to do any of that. He wanted to keep talking about worms. Which lead him to other, more interesting ways, to get worms to come up out of the ground. Ways that involved electricity. Against Kira's better judgement she'd agreed to give the lawn a little shock to pull up some worms. She'd shot a little electricity through a paperclip into a shady spot and a measly two worms came out.

Stiles had squealed in delight at first, then mourned the lack luster number. So Kira upped the ante. A little more voltage and a butter knife. When that pulled up a decent amount Kira thought that would be the end of it. But Stiles simply moved to the next most interesting thing. He got excited about what her electricity had looked like jumping from her fingers to the knife.

And since she'd done similar things to entertain Malia, Kira had easily agreed to shoot off a few sparks to entertain him. A few sparks turned into a bit of a show and well, Stiles is having a meltdown in the backseat. They'd strayed a little too close to Janice's garden and a stray bolt of lightning caught Alpha Talia's prized cactus. Mayor Hale had bought it for her on their wedding night. Stiles took about five seconds to process the sight of fire before bursting into tears.

Honestly Kira felt like she was going to start the waterworks any minute now. She really should have known better. Derek, Malia, and Peter had mentioned on more than one occasion that Stiles had a particular talent to goad people into things. She should have put her foot down. She shouldn't have been so weak. Damn Stiles' cute little face. She suddenly understood exactly why everyone treated Derek they way they did.

So to the problem at hand, she needed to get a new cactus. She needed to calm Stiles down at some point. And she needed to get back to the house before Peter or anyone else came home. Kira clutched the steering wheel like a life line and told herself it would be okay.

Lowes didn't have the right type of cactus. Alpha Talia's cactus was a Mammillaria albicoma. It was native to Mexico and a threatened species. It looked like a giant angry dandelion that swallowed a cactus. No one was going to have it. The poor nursery guy at Lowes looked like a deer in the headlights. Kira had just barely managed to get Stiles to calm down when he got the news that the replacement cactus was a no go.

Stiles had started sobbing again and was holding the cactus up like a sad offering to a king. "Okay. Okay. We'll just...get Alpha Talia a different cactus." Stiles starts shaking his head. "Just...I burned the cactus Stiles. It's my fault. And I want to get her another one to apologize." She pulls Stiles in and tries her best to tuck his taller body into hers for a nice comforting hug.

"My fault. S'my fault." Stiles sniffled and put the pot on the ground so he could get closer to Kira. Stiles gets that he shouldn't have goaded Kira. And while Kira definitely shouldn't have listened he shouldn't have insisted. Peter's told him a million times that magic is dangerous and you have to respect it. That if you're playing with something big and dangerous you don't do it near the house. Setting fire to Alpha's cactus was bad but it could have been way worse. The house could have caught.

Stiles has that itchy feeling, like he's covered in ants, the one he gets when he feels like he needs a spanking. He knows there's nothing he can really do about that right now. Between that and the genuine sadness over disappointing his Alpha, the tears just won't stop.

"Okay...well, I think it was my fault." Just as Stiles starts to pitch up a fit to disagree Kira squeezes him a little harder. "But it can be both our faults. Let's just...", Kira looks to the very uncomfortable Lowes employee, hoping he can throw her a bone.

"Uh...we've got a sale on succulents?"

Kira nods and pats Stiles gently on the back. "See, they have a sale. So we'll buy Alpha Hale a new cactus. Maybe a lot of cactus. Cacti?" Kira pinches Stiles gently on the side, right where Malia told her he was ticklish. "Is it cactuses or cacti?"

Stiles sniffles and pulls away, rubbing his wrist across his running nose. "Is both and cactus."

"Three different plurals huh? Why's that?" Kira's never really been good at language arts and anything with a lengthy explanation is a good way to keep Stiles occupied. Kira manages to tuck Stiles to her side while they follow the employee out to the potted cacti. By the time she and Stiles are piling cacti into a cart he's moved on to explaining why you don't say 'meese' even though you say 'geese'.

Kira had really been hoping to replace Alpha Hale's cactus with a look-a-like then pretend like nothing ever happened. Since that didn't pan out Kira figured she'd just pick a nice one. Then Stiles wanted a different one. And well, Kira ended up buying about twenty small cacti; some with spines, some without, cute little flower looking ones, and some that sprawled out and looked kind of like kelp.

Stiles rode back still sniffling. The burnt cactus was still in his lap. Even though it was well and truly dead he couldn't bring himself to throw it away without Alpha's permission. Kira wasn't really sure if actually seeing the cactus would work in her favor. Had she burnt it by accident on her own she would have chucked it immediately to keep Alpha Hale from seeing the horror with her own eyes.

To make things worse, the trip to Lowes took way longer than it should have. So instead of coming back to the house and setting up all the cactus Kira was forced to pull up right behind Peter. And while Kira had never been explicitly told to not take Stiles out of the house, she couldn't help but feel a little worried.

"S'okay Kira. We bof in trouble lil' bit. Everyone only half mad cause we're sharin'."

Kira let out a terrified little laugh and clung to her steering wheel like it was a weapon. "Yeah. Yeah, totally." She makes eye contact with Peter through her windshield and instantly regrets it. He's a shark that's just smelt blood. He's circling. Literally, he's striding up to the car and circling it to get a good look at the cacti shoved all over her available seats. She can pinpoint the moment he spots the burnt cactus in Stiles' lap.

"He sees Tony Kira."

"Tony?"

"Cactus." Stiles holds up the cactus, turning it just a little so Kira can make out a little paint hidden under soot. Tony is the cactus. Alpha Hale named it. Kira thunks her head against the steering wheel and wonders if she should have bought thirty. She doesn't even bother to respond as Malia opens her car door. She just wants to wallow in her failure.

"Stiles, what do you have there?" Peter's opened the back passenger door and is crouching next to it to get a good look inside. He glances over the spine free succulents in the back with Stiles and the burnt cactus in his lap. As he reaches out for it Stiles clutches it to his belly. Even though most of the thorns look like they've been lost Peter cringes and grabs his wrists to pull the pot back. "Be careful. Let me see." He gently eases the pot away, sitting it on the ground so he can take a closer look at Stiles' stomach.

"No pricklies." Stiles sniffs and casts a look over at Kira, who's smiling softly at Malia's curious sniffing and nudging. "M'belly's fine." Stiles huffs and tries to pull his hands away from Peter. He'd just tried to rub across his shirt to prove there were no thorns.

"Stiles. Please." Peter rubs a hand down Stiles stomach and sides then unbuckles his seat belt. "I see that you and Kira had a little bit of excitement." He holds out a hand for Stiles to steady himself as he gets out of the car. It doesn't take but a few seconds for the tears to come back.

Stiles is nervously wringing the hem of his shirt and sucking in fast little breaths as he cries. Peter can just make out the wobble of his lip. "We...we...", Stiles looks up and rubs a knuckle to his eye. "Was a accident."

Quietly, so Stiles isn't likely to hear, Kira whispers "My fault". She's out of the car now, leaning against it and facing Peter and Stiles. When Malia nips her on the back of the ear Kira gestures over the car. "We bought replacements as an apology."

Much to her relief Peter doesn't scold her for the cactus or taking Stiles out of the house. He even helps drag an old shelving rack out of the shed to put all the cacti on. They look a little out of place next to Janice's lush blooming garden but Kira can admit they're cute. Tony even takes a spot on the bottom rack in some shade. After everything is set up it's a waiting game. Alpha Hale will come home close to last and Derek could be home at any time really. It all depended on how his client felt.

Kira chose to stay and stick things out. It was her responsibility to tell about the accident. She didn't have it in her to leave Stiles on his own for whatever punishment lay ahead. Malia continually assured her that it wasn't a big deal, that Alpha Hale hardly ever acknowledged the cactus anyways. But Kira couldn't help but feel that was a lie. It had a name. Who named a cactus if it didn't mean something?

Malia tried to calm her, lying curled up around her feet at the couch. Every now and again she'd nip at Kira's bare ankle. She kept an ear out for Stiles too, growling at him when his heart rate picked up. Slowly the rest of the pack trickles in. Peter pulls Janice aside to explain things which sends Stiles into another sniffle fit. By the time Derek makes it home Stiles has already sent himself to his time out rug to get a grip on himself.

Kira feels obligated to explain herself before he heads up there. So while wringing her hands and focusing on Derek's stomach she explains their day. Starting with the worms and ending with the twenty new cactus in the backyard. "So, he thinks it's his fault too. And he's really stressed. But I shouldn't have done it. I know better." Kira grimaces and looks Derek in the eye. "Please only punish Stiles a little. Just enough to make him relax. It wasn't his fault, really."

Derek tips his head back, catching the sounds of Stiles fidgeting on his rug. "It was an accident Kira. I think the two of you punished yourselves a lot better than any of us could." Derek looks back at her and cups his hands around the sides of her neck. As a Domme Kira should feel threatened, or agitated, at the display of dominance but it doesn't come. Instead she feels comforted, like Derek is just a paternal figure. "Take a deep breath. Relax."

Kira looks him in the eye and takes a deep breath in then lets it out nice and slow. It's not enough to really calm her but it's a start. She also feels a little better knowing Derek is heading upstairs to calm down Stiles. Malia ends up nudging her into the kitchen where Mitch hands her a cup of tea. Shortly after Derek comes around carrying Stiles against his chest like a toddler. When he sits Mitch quietly passes them a glass and sippy cup of tea.

It takes a lot of coaxing from Derek to get Stiles to take the nib into his mouth. Once he does though the tension in the room seems to ease. Stiles' eyes are still a little bloodshot but he's smiling and occasionally giggling as Derek talks about his ridiculous new client. Derek is good at spinning his afternoon into a good story with enough detail to keep Stiles occupied. He maintains it even when Talia comes home.

The front door isn't far off from the kitchen but Stiles is well and truely invested in his Daddy's story. Kira isn't so far gone though. She has no doubt that Derek knows and is keeping Stiles occupied. So as nonchalontly as she can manage, Kira slides out of her chair and heads to the living room to speak with Alpha Hale.

Talia straightens up as she sees her, obviously taking in her nervous scent and the way she's wringing her hands. She straightens herself and offers Kira a gentle smile, the same one that Derek had given her. It's enough to have Kira take a deep breath. She rolls her shoulders back and looks Alpha Hale in the eye. "Alpha Hale, I want to apologize for something." It's easy enough after that to explain her afternoon. She can almost feel the ghost of Derek's wide hands across her neck as she speaks. The whole time Talia remains calm and collected. When it's all said and done Kira feels nothing but relief. "So Peter helped us put them all out back."

Talia takes Kira by the hand and looks her in the eye. "Thank you for telling me. And thank you for looking after Stiles." She gently squeezes Kira's hand. "I'm honestly surprised the cactus lasted this long anyways." She chuckles and sweeps past Kira to the kitchen where she quickly quiets Stiles and urges everyone outside.

She leads the way as everyone falls in line. Derek is still carrying Stiles like a toddler and everyone is kind enough not to comment. When Talia finally takes in the full rack of cactuses she laughs. "Look at all of them." She swoops in close to the rack sliding the pots around, picking some up to get a closer look. After she's had her fill the kids come up and carefully look through all the new additions. The air around Kira feels the lightest it has all day.

* * * * 

Stiles was adult enough to admit he was jealous of how easily Kira seemed to let go of her guilt. She wasn't like him or Malia, who needed some sort of punishment to wipe the slate clean. His Daddy had told him everything was fine. That playing with magic like that close to the house was dangerous but there was no harm done. He'd given Stiles a little more rug time before dinner to take the edge off but Stiles still felt wrong.

He'd ruined Alpha's special wedding cactus. He'd killed Tony. Helped kill him anyways, and no matter what his Daddy said his stomach still felt squirmy. That's why after dinner Stiles asked if he could have some alone time in their room so he could lie down. He knew he'd never actually fall asleep, and it was pointless to try before his shower, but it made him feel like he was doing something.

Stiles was rolled up in his comforter in the bed with his face mushed into his Daddy's pillow. He'd left the door open just a crack, enough to dampen the noise of the house not block his Daddy's ears. He was so caught up in his nasty thoughts he didn't hear Alpha come in. When the bed dipped beside him he almost whined and rolled away, expecting his Daddy to be there to collect him for a shower.

Instead Alpha started scratching the tuft of hair visible under the lip of his blanket burrito. she hears Stiles' unhappy grumble and gives an answering chuckle of her own. She'd told Derek to give Stiles his space, that he'd probably feel uneasy until she came up and consoled him anyways. As a human his pack bonds were a little different, but as a sub things came very close. Stiles needed his Alpha to say everything was okay on this one.

"Stiles, do you feel like coming out of there?" She scratches her nails across the crown of his head and waits for his answer. He shakes his head no, but it's hesitant. "That's okay. Can I sit up here with you?" At his nod she climbs fully onto the bed and rests her back against the headboard. It's easy enough for her to pull him until his warm cheek is resting on her thigh. Once the two of them are settled she starts combing her fingers through his hair again.

"Gavin bought me that cactus in Mexico." She dutifully ignores the way Stiles stiffens and pushes on with her story. "We went down there on a whim. We weren't sure if we were going to get married or just," she laughs, "have a very _fun_ roadtrip. We saw a family selling cactus on the side of the road maybe half way to the church we ended up at. All of the pots were named. The kids were painting them on as we pulled up. Tony was the name of a sub in another pack. His parents talked with my parents. It was never going to happen but we were amicable towards each other. Before I really knew what had happened we had the cactus in the backseat and a solid plan to get married."

Talia pushed the edge of the blanket back until it bunched up around his neck and shoulders. Then she rubbed her hand across his cheek and cupped it. "The cactus wasn't really all that important to me cub. It was just a plant."

Stiles sniffled and tipped his nose to her leg. "But you kept it livin'."

"Sweetie it's a cactus. There wasn't much I could do to kill it." She poked him on the cheek. "I'm not angry that the cactus got burnt. I'm not mad at you or Kira. And I think all the new cactus that you picked up are lovely. We have the rule about magic for a reason but no one got hurt. No harm done."

"You not mad at me?"

"No sweetie. Not at all." She bends down and gives him a kiss on the top of the head. With that she slips out from under him and off the bed. She can hear her son coming up the stairs to collect Stiles for his bath. They'd talked already and Derek had a good idea for a 'punishment' that should put Stiles at ease and end the situation. She passes Derek on the stairs, pats him on the shoulder, and heads down to have a coffee with her husband.

Derek gets into his room just as Stiles is unwinding himself from his blanket cocoon. He looks a little better than he did earlier. His eyes are clear but he's still pouting. "Feeling better cub?"

"Daddy?" Stiles slides free of the bed and drags his feet along the carpet until he can slump into his Daddy's chest. "Alpha's not mad."

"No. No one is mad." Derek pulls Stiles in close, hugging him tight. "But magic like that near the house is a no-no. And you did break someone else's property." Derek waits for Stiles to finish squirming and whining against his chest to continue. "So you're going to write Alpha an apology. You can give it to her in the morning."

Stiles winds his fingers deep into the fabric of his Daddy's shirt and tips his head up to get a better look at his face. "I can make a card?"

"That's fine cub."

"Then's over?"

"Then it's over. All forgiven." To really send the message home Derek starts peppering kisses over every inch of Stiles' face he can reach. And he doesn't stop until he's giggling and trying to squirm away. Derek lets him go so he can gather up their pajamas. He gives Stiles' about thirty seconds before he realizes it's bath time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't really sure how to end this one. It felt kind of abrupt but I didn't know what else to add.
> 
> And I wanted to kind of point out that Stiles felt so bad because he'd damaged something that he thought held great sentimental value to his Alpha/mother/grandmother figure. He was just really disappointed in himself and made a mountain out of a molehill.
> 
> Oh, and you really can catch worms that way. Just make sure you rinse them off.


End file.
